


Pöjke Gay

by nursehelena



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Canonical Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Religious Conflict, Suicide, Teenage Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nursehelena/pseuds/nursehelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reverend Wartooth answers the call to preside over a church in southwestern Sweden, uprooting his family from the humble life they've always led in Lillehammer. Exposed to a much more complicated version of the world, his son Toki has a steep learning curve. Realizing he's gay in a small, conservative town is extremely difficult to deal with. . .although isn't so bad when he's not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Big Dumb Swede

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, in which Toki and Skwisgaar are the same age and went to school together in Sweden. The town is fictional, if that matters. I'm just going with this, with very little planning, which isn't very typical for me, lol.
> 
> This started as a one-shot, then turned into more. I semi-abandoned it after 5 chapters, but now I'm steaming through to the finish!

Toki's knees knocked together in a nearly audible fashion as he stood at the front of the classroom. This sucked. This _really_ sucked. Hadn't a nervous swallow and bare whimper been answer enough when Lundgren asked if he'd like to be introduced to everyone else? Not that the class cared someone new stood before them—even with the presence of a teacher did they commence to chat with their neighbours, pass notes, and throw paper airplanes at those beyond speaking distance. Toki would've _loved_ to hide in the back corner. Instead, he got flashed as a piece of fresh meat for the picking when they finally all calmed down.

“This is Toki Wartooth. He just moved here all the way from Norway.” Lundgren rested a hand on Toki's shoulder. Way to make it even worse. Throwing a Norwegian in with a room full of Swedes would not bode well. Would they purposely try to confuse him with the language difference, even if Toki had an entire summer of tutoring toward it? “So do your best to make him feel welcome. It's never easy to start somewhere new. Why don't you take a seat, Toki?”

His legs felt like jelly as he tread into dark territory. Lundgren instructed everyone to take out their Language Arts books, but while his back was turned no one listened. Twenty-one pairs of eyes drilled into Toki, a cool dark blue the most disconcerting. Toki eased into the desk right before whom they belonged to, then fumbled in his bag for one of the notebooks his mother shoved on him on his way out the door. He focused on Lundgren, attempting to catch on to what book or grammar section the class studied, when a reverberating thud against the bottom of his chair caused him to squeak.

Giggles followed around him, catching Lundgren's attention. When no one confessed, he returned to the lecture. Another kick came, harder than the last. Then another. And another. Shaking too much to even hold his pencil, Toki peered back over his shoulder in hopes that his fear might inspire sympathy. His classmate boasted a smug smirk, blond hair barely touching his shoulders. He slouched in his seat, putting him eye-level with Toki. Judging by all the attention he drew, by everyone's eagerness to see this play out, he was quite respected among his peers.

Great. And he's obviously found his newest target.  

* * *

The boy's name was Skwisgaar, as Toki learned the next time roll call was taken. He quickly learned to resent that name, after only a morning of having his chair repeatedly kicked. Why did everyone keep laughing? Was it seriously that funny?

He spoke to nobody and went straight home after school. Thank God no one followed him. He lied to his mother about how his day went, then locked up in his room with his guitar and played out his frustrations. Dumb Swedes. Big Dumb Swedes. Maybe what everyone said at his old school in Lillehammer was right: Swedes were dildos. Big dumb dildos who would laugh at anything and were stupidly mean.

Toki avoided Skwisgaar as much as he could. No choice existed about being bugged in the classroom, but he found nooks and crannies about the school and its grounds where he could hide during breaks. He was never much for reading or homework back home, but here he resorted to nothing else. Pretty soon they'd all start calling him a nerd, or something. Then things would only get worse.

Wednesday afternoon, he and his assigned half of the eighth graders filed into the multi-purpose classroom. A twitchy sort of man with terrible body odour welcomed them all, then regarded Toki with a tilt of his head and hands on his waist. “Who's this, now?”

No one else answered. “My name's Toki. I'm new.”

“I see! Did you have a music program where you lived?”

“Not really.”

“Do you play anything?”

Toki nodded imperceptibly.

“Cat got your tongue? What do you play?”

The class oohed when Toki indicated his choice. One boy guffawed. “Only Skwisgaar plays the guitar.”

Rather than subject himself to Skwisgaar's piercing stare, Toki backed down. “I can play piano too, if that's okay.”

* * *

Although ignored during regular study and shoved aside in music, Toki found gym class to be where he could excel. All the difficult chores his parents made him do at home contributed to dexterity, speed, and endurance. He could run the most laps around the gym, climb the ropes the fastest, walk on his hands, and deke anyone in indoor football. Respect, although hesitant at first, soon came through this avenue. The other sport-oriented minds invited him to play with them during recess and lunch hour outside, he always got chosen first for teams, and, for once, he boasted a leg up on Skwisgaar. If his sneer was any indication, that bothered him a _lot._ He got worse about kicking Toki's chair, tripped him in the hallways, and poked him in the back of the neck with his freshly sharpened pencils.

No longer afraid as much as annoyed, their silent feud came to a head during a handball game when, accidentally on purpose, Toki whipped the ball across the gym intent for his teammate and instead nailed Skwisgaar on the nose. Groans echoed through the gym. If Skwisgaar had been paying attention, it might've been avoided. Even though it was half his own fault, Skwisgaar glared at Toki on his way to the nurse's station.

One of Skwisgaar's friends, after class ended, caught up to Toki. “You're dead, Wartooth.”

“Ja, _dead_ ,” another reiterated.

Ja, ja. . .he heard it the first time.

His own strength was something Toki took pride in, and he didn't worry at all about the gangly boy coming after him. If he did, he'd only embarrass himself again. Days passed, wherein Skwisgaar's black eyes healed, he stopped kicking Toki's chair, and finally an entire week went by without a reminder that he'd fucked with the Big Dumb Swede.

Come Monday, however. . .

Toki headed for the boy's bathroom after the bell rang for recess. While he washed his hands and hummed a song he attempted to learn back home on his guitar, the door slammed open behind him. A punch to the stomach forced all the air from Toki's lungs and sent him to the floor. He gasped for breath, looking up at his attackers, when the Big Dumb Swede himself came in. Guffawing ensued, the same kid that hit Toki propped him back up, then he pat Skwisgaar on the shoulder. “We'll watch for any teachers.”

Toki still gasped for breath as Skwisgaar stood before him, the rush of students out in the hallway more than enough to obscure any call for help he might've been able to make. He didn't expect much to come from Skwisgaar in way of pain, but he still cowered when the Big Dumb Swede steeled himself and advanced. His eyes remained clenched when a large hand clasped his jaw and straightened his head. Nose for a nose, Toki assumed.

But a punch never came. Toki's eyes flew open at the fear that Skwisgaar attempted to smother him, then they crossed as he realized just how close that stupid nose was. Blond hair brushed his cheek and he had no idea how to react. An instinctive pucker engaged him. Although it seemed to last half his lifetime, probably only a few seconds passed before a quiet smack of their lips ended the uninvited kiss.

He had no idea what to say, and Skwisgaar wasn't talking yet either. Skwisgaar stayed close, unreadable as ever, then he smirked and tapped Toki a couple times on the underside of his chin. “You're cute. Keep it up.

“Oh, and. . .” He turned back before reaching the door. “Pretend like you're hurt. Got it?”

Stunned, all Toki could do was touch his mouth. _No_. Really? _What?_

Skwisgaar's friends must've taken it for granted that he'd done a good one over on Toki, because they didn't come back in to see the damage. Once their guffawing left hearing distance, Toki turned around and groaned while rinsing out his mouth. Gross! Yuck! And yet. . .

He'd totally do it again. 


	2. The Prince

The great thing about being boys was, once the scuffle ended, a blank slate existed between Toki and Skwisgaar. For Toki, that came with both relief and confusion. No one kicked his chair in class anymore and Skwisgaar's friends no longer bothered him, but. . .Skwisgaar never gave _any_ sign that what transpired in the bathroom rooted in reality. Days passed without its acknowledgement, then weeks. Did Toki lay awake at night thinking about something that never happened? Did his reaction alienate Skwisgaar? Or did he attempt to throw him off?

If so, mission accomplished.

After class let out on Friday afternoon, Toki lingered with his friends until chores at home beckoned. On his way off the grounds, he came up to the bench where Skwisgaar sat with his Gibson. Toki assumed he'd pass unnoticed.

“Hey Toki.” Skwisgaar didn't lift his head. “Come here a minute.”

Butterflies swarmed in Toki's stomach as he adjusted his grip on his backpack. “Ja?”

“You said at the beginning of the year that you played the guitar, didn't you?”

“A little bit, but I'm not that good.”

“Nylund lets you play more than one instrument, if you want.”

“Ja, but. . .” Toki shuffled his feet on the sidewalk.

“What, you're going to listen to Ludvig?” With a laugh came the first smile Toki could recall Skwisgaar cracking in his presence. “He's just a dumbass. You should play whatever you want.”

“You wouldn't care?”

“Why is it any of my business? The only reason I give Ludvig a hard time about trying to is because he's an arrogant dildo.”

“He is,” Toki agreed. “I'll stick to piano. It's okay.”

“Up to you.” Skwisgaar shrugged. “What're you doing right now?”

“Going home. Why?”

“I'd like to see how well you play the guitar, anyway.”

The butterflies returned. “I have chores to do.”

“Too bad. See you later, then.”

“Right.” Toki took a few steps away before stopping again. “Have a good weekend.”  

* * *

What Toki enjoyed most about church came _after_ all the boring Bible stuff. He and a couple kids from school pulled the hockey nets over to the handball court. The cold didn't matter once they'd flushed their cheeks and dirtied their dress shirts.

“Toki,” his mother sighed when she found him later. “You couldn't have changed, first?”

“I forgot my other shirt.”

“Well. . .take it off right when we get home.”

“Can't I stay longer to play?” Toki glanced back at Roar, Karl, and Espen, who still deked around one another. “How come we're leaving so early?”

“Some women are coming over for coffee. Roar's mother is one, so you can carry the game on there, if you like.”

“It's no fun with only two. . .” Toki pouted, not that it did any good. After waving goodbye to his friends, he followed his mother to the car. He crossed his arms in the backseat. “Papa's still shaking everyone's hands. I could've played longer.”

“Don't start.”

“Why don't you tell _him_ to hurry up?”

“Toki,” she warned him. “Have some respect. Your father is an important man.”

Instead, Toki rested his forehead against the window. Now that he no longer moved, his sweat caused him to shiver. He should've brought his jacket.

Dressed in a sweater and with a cocoa in his lap, Toki greeted Roar when he entered the Wartooth house with his mother. “Do you want one?”

“Sure.” Roar thanked him for the hot drink, having made himself comfortable next to the wood stove. “Don't you have a television?”

“A—?” Right, one of those picture boxes people sometimes had in their family rooms. “Nei, we don't.”

“What about a radio?”

“Nei, we have a tape player. There might be something on the radio that I'm not supposed to listen to.”

“Really?”

Embarrassment trickled into Toki's chest. His family's disconnection with popular culture always earned raised eyebrows.

Roar smiled. “You're not missing all that much, anyway.”  

* * *

New month, new perspective, Lundgren had said before instructing students where to move their desks. Toki missed the old seating arrangement for the odd tap he received against the bottom of his chair. On the positive side, Skwisgaar now sat one seat ahead in the row to his right. Toki no longer needed to rely on stealing a quick glance of the boy after sharpening his pencil or returning from the restroom.

His patience waned, waiting for Skwisgaar to approach him again. If Toki wanted the chance to hang out with Skwisgaar, he needed to take things into his own hands. Contrary to the impression he extended, Toki _did_ play the guitar on a regular basis. He and Skwisgaar had _that_ much in common; if they had more, Toki wanted the chance to find out. Belonging to different groups of friends posed a challenge in need of circumvention.

Heart pounding, he chickened out in class when the other students readied to leave. Waiting outside the mudroom came too with second guesses. When Skwisgaar stepped out, the chance to change his mind disappeared.

“Hi.” Toki fell into step beside him. “What're you doing right now?”

“Heading home, far as I know.” Skwisgaar resituated his backpack. “How come?”

“If you're not busy, I wanted to take you up on playing together.”

The corners of Skwisgaar's mouth tugged upward. “Where's your guitar?”

“Oh. . .at home.” Toki cursed his stupidity. “I guess there wasn't much a point to this, huh?”

“We could go there to play.”

“If I go home, I'll have to do chores.” Having already decided to push the line on his scheduled life, conceding didn't appeal. “I guess it'll have to wait. Sorry.”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “You could come over anyway.”

A flurry of nerves lightened Toki's stomach. Go to Skwisgaar's house? Well, what else did he expect? Even if Toki remembered his guitar, Skwisgaar still needed an amp. “Sure.”

Skwisgaar lived in the same direction as Toki, though turned off Storgatan at Båraleden. “Where're you from, anyway? Oslo?”

“Little further north, from a place called Lillehammer.”

“The Winter Olympics are going to be there next, aren't they?” Skwisgaar carried on when Toki nodded. “You probably would've wanted to go watch, huh?”

“Ja. . .but I don't think I would've been allowed.”

“How come?”

“My parents don't let me do very much, unless it's got something to do with church.”

“I'm pretty sure watching downhill skiing isn't going to make you worship the devil.”

Toki laughed. “Try telling _them_ that. What church do _you_ go to, anyway? I never see you at mine.”

“I don't go.” Skwisgaar wrinkled his nose. “No offence, but that crap's not really for me.”

“Why not? Church isn't that bad.” Even if an old sermon went revisited, it still offered Toki another chance outside of school to see his friends.

“I don't believe in anything, is all. Does that make me a bad person?” Skwisgaar nudged him.

“My dad might think so. Just say you're Christian, if he ever asks. And that you worship at home, or something.”

“And if he starts asking me questions?”

“Easy: ask him what _he_ thinks.”

“He's a talker?”

“The pastor,” Toki elaborated. “That's why we moved here. The old one died or something, so my dad took the position. Said that we went wherever God wanted us to, and He wanted us in Nedsjön.”

“So you believe all that stuff?”

Toki nodded again. “Not as much as my parents, but I believe that God exists and that he loves me. _I_ don't think he'd punish me if I didn't do my chores everyday.”

“Sounds like they're pretty strict.”

“What about _yours?_ ”

“I do pretty much whatever I want.”

“Wowie! That must be so cool.”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess.”

The further down the road they went, the less driveways they passed. After a final S-bend, a small cabin appeared. Skwisgaar immediately huffed. “Great—Mom didn't throw a log on the fire before leaving.”

“We have wood heat too. It's okay.” Toki assured him. “At least it's not below zero yet, right?”

A tinge of embarrassment underlined Skwisgaar's already-red cheeks. He shrugged off his load before tending to the stove inside. Toki, in the meantime, surveyed where Skwisgaar called home. Pictures of him at various ages covered the walls, as well as whom Toki could only assume was his mother. Both were quite pretty, if Toki should offer an opinion. “How come there aren't any pictures of your dad?”

“Don't have one.”

“Oh.” Toki shifted in socked feet. “Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize.” Skwisgaar concentrated on the jump in flame caused by each squeeze of the bellows. “There, that should do it. Let's go upstairs.”

The upstairs landing compelled Toki to draw his shoulders in, not that Skwisgaar's room differed. A desk in the corner bore the weight of a small stereo and a multitude of tapes. Skwisgaar kicked scattered clothes toward the closet. An amp situated near the foot of his bed, by which he plopped down. “Take a seat.”

Toki pulled out the desk chair, scanning over the tapes for hint of what Skwisgaar listened to. He recognized none of it, no surprise. His eyes widened at a cartoon depiction of Hell and the devil. “What _is_ all this?”

“Metal, most of it. Some rock.” The amp crackled and grated as Skwisgaar plugged in. “You've never heard of any of those bands?”

“I can't say it looks like anything my parents would let me listen to.”

“So then you've never heard that kind of music, either.”

“I doubt it.” Toki picked up one of the cases and squinted at the tiny picture. Demons tugged the guts from some lost soul's middle. Rather than disgust, intrigue deepened. What kind of music went with this kind of imagery? “Your mom doesn't care if you like this?”

“Nej.” Skwisgaar strummed his guitar, then turned the amp down to maintain conversation. “So long as it keeps me busy.”

“Is she. . .?” Toki trailed off, distracted by the sudden difference in music he associated with Skwisgaar. Rather than the songs Nylund brought in for them all to learn, Skwisgaar's fingers flew over the frets. He stopped playing long enough to pull his legs up onto the bed and situate his guitar more comfortably in his lap. For a moment, it seemed he forgot his company. “What is that?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Just a warm up. I haven't played much today.” Skwisgaar's amp buzzed in his lull. “Wanna hear the first song _I_ ever heard?”

“Sure.”

Skwisgaar launched back into playing, chords to start before his fingers returned to their previous speed. Only when he made his guitar squeal did Toki realize his eyes couldn't go any wider. The other boy's zeal forced the music through the pinpricks it created on Toki's skin.

Skwisgaar lifted his head. “It's probably hard for you to imagine what the original sounds like, but that's metal.”

“You're _really_ good.” Toki fiddled with the tape in his hand. “I wish _I_ could play like that.”

“You can, if you practice enough.” Skwisgaar unplugged and commenced to run his fingers through a new set of riffs.

“I play almost every evening, but all I've learned is hymns and whatever Nylund gives us.” Another tape case showcased a man with long hair and the thickest moustache Toki ever saw.

“Go ahead and throw in whatever catches your eye.”

“Huh?”

“Put a tape in.”

How did Toki even pick? He settled on seeking out the play button on Skwisgaar's stereo. Silence greeted him, then he jumped when an explosion of noise kicked off the first track. His ears darkened when Skwisgaar laughed.

“Most of this is in English,” Skwisgaar explained when Toki craned to understand the vocalist. “For me, it's the guitar that matters.”

Rather than attempt to comprehend what the band intended, Toki leaned back in his chair and discerned what it meant for _him_. Like when Skwisgaar played, an ineffable excitement overpowered his senses. His blood grew heavy, pounding from his fingers to his toes. He stared so intently at Skwisgaar's synchronized fretwork that he forgot the music came from elsewhere. One song came to a close, then another, then another. Soon, the silence cracked. Skwisgaar told Toki to turn the tape over, and the process repeated.

A jolt of panic disrupted Toki's exhilaration. Somehow, they'd lost the daylight. “I have to go home. I bet my parents are wondering where I am.”

“You can call for a ride, if you like.”

Toki weighed the odds. How much trouble would he be in, sans parental supervision with a boy they didn't know? “It might be best if I walk.”

“You sure?”

“Ja.” Toki led the way back downstairs, where Skwisgaar leaned by the wall separating the living room from the small kitchen.

“Thanks for coming over, anyway,” he said. “Next time, remember your guitar.”

“I will.” No matter what awaited Toki back home, he harboured zero regret for breaking the ice. “See you at school tomorrow.” 


	3. Bad Influence

Toki rightly assumed that trouble would find him. As he came up on his house, his father stepped out onto the terrace. No matter how Toki drug his feet, he still wound up standing before the man.

“Where've _you_ been?”

“I lost track of time. I'm sorry, Papa.”

Aslaug crossed his arms. “Do you think the firewood chops itself, around here? And your mother needed help making dinner.”

“I'll make up for it, I promise.”

“Starting now. Go do your chores, and we'll discuss punishment after you've eaten.”

Toki stepped around him to drop his backpack, bracing himself for when the door closed. Sure enough, he sustained a sharp flick to his ear. His gaze met his mother's in the kitchen, before she returned to washing dishes.

The ax came down hard outside, splitting the wood right down the middle with only two whacks per piece. Anger followed Toki's fear. Since when couldn't he hang out with his friends? Why did he have to come home right after school, every single day? Why should he worry about the repercussions? Did his parents believe he'd do something bad if they relinquished some grip?

He should go straight up to his room and barricade the door, so that his father couldn't speak to him. He should return a hit for a hit, if his father decided that to be the appropriate punishment. Instead of strike where no one would see the resultant mark, Toki would aim right for the face. God, that would feel _so good_.

As the woodbox inside filled up, though, Toki lost heart. No matter how much he liked to dream, he knew that any sort of rebellion would be immediately and painfully suppressed. After sweeping up all the stray pieces of bark, he sought his father in the family room. His mother had made herself scarce. “I'm all done.”

“There should be a plate of food on the counter for you.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Eat.”

Toki's protest arose as truth, not defiance. Dread for what might come afterward destroyed whatever appetite he possessed. Even one of his favourite meals tasted dry and unappealing. It went down with forceful swallowing. Toki stared at his empty plate, waiting for his father to register the lack of clinking cutlery. When footsteps sounded down the hallway, Toki's stomach turned so violently he suspected he might throw it up.

“You understand what you did wrong?”

Toki nodded miserably. “I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

“Starting tonight, you'll go straight to your room after finishing after-school chores. You'll only come out for dinner and for the bathroom.”

“For how many days?”

“We'll see.”

Despite not having landed a physical punishment, Toki experienced no relief. It could still come, anytime. His father tagged it on at a later date far too often for Toki to feel optimistic. To quell his nerves, he pretended the evening hadn't gone differently than any other. The heel of his wrist pressed into his cheek while he dawdled through his math homework.

His mention in the family room broke his concentration. “It's only the first time Toki's ever done it, Aslaug. You shouldn't be so harsh on him.”

“He knows the rules: he comes home, does his chores, and that's it. This was what we agreed, for him to attend public school.”

“Did he say why he came home so late? Maybe his teacher held him back. Did you ever consider that perhaps it was out of his control?”

Aslaug didn't reply, and Toki jumped when a timid knock sounded at his door. His mother poked her head in. “Are you busy?”

“Sort of. It's okay.”

Anja peered down at his work, then ran her hand affectionately over the crown of his head. “I'd like to talk with you about today.”

“Why's it such a big deal?” Toki lowered his voice, certain his father craned an ear. “I still got my chores done and the fire never went out. I'm sorry that I missed dinner, but I really _did_ lose track of the time.”

“Where were you?” Anja took a seat on his bed.

“I—I went to a friend's house,” Toki admitted. “I didn't mean to stay so long.”

“Which friend?”

“You don't know him. His name is Skwisgaar.”

“Is he your age?”

“Ja, he's in my class. He plays guitar like me, so he was showing me some songs.” Toki could ask for forgiveness during nightly prayer for leaving out damning details.

“Personally, I have no issue with you making new friends. This has been the point of you going to regular school, so that you can socialize with different people. I'm going to speak to your father about it. I expect he will want to meet this boy before he's okay with you visiting him again. And his parents.”

“Skwisgaar's only got a mom.” Hopefully that didn't put a strike against him. Already, Toki's heart sunk. Could they really give Skwisgaar a chance? The boy who played and listened to the devil's music, the boy who'd _kissed_ their son? 

* * *

The next day, during silent reading, Toki couldn't move beyond the paragraph he'd last left off on. Skwisgaar's shoe tapping against the floor continued to draw his attention. Never before did Toki yearn so hard to defy his parents, nor did he possess such means. Of course, those weren't the sole contributors to Skwisgaar's magnetism. The stupidest little things fascinated him, like how the short, pale hairs on Skwisgaar's arms gleamed white under the fluorescent lights. His fingers were long and thin, something Toki never took notice on anyone else. A light spatter of freckles dotted his cheekbones, if Toki looked close enough. Even though anyone else could observe those things just as easily, Toki considered it all his. Their short, accidental kiss remained the elephant in the room, but Toki decided it did indeed occur. His imagination could never fabricate something like that. Well, not then, but ever _since_. . .

He yawned, blurring the words on the page beneath him. Staying up late thinking about those lips could prove the end of easy sleep.

The recess bell came as an enormous relief. Unfortunately, his attempt to catch Skwisgaar's attention before he floated toward his friends failed. With a sigh, Toki headed for the handball court instead to see what the game du jour was.

“. . .Sign-ups are going to start Friday after next, down at Sportlabbet—”

“Sign-ups for what?” Toki interrupted Roar as he caught up.

“New hockey season. You play, right?”

“Ice hockey, you mean?” Toki's shoulders further slumped. “I haven't before, but I could ask.”

“S'long as you can skate, you should be okay.” Roar threw him a hockey stick. “Always seems like we're short.”

“I can skate,” Toki said. “But it all depends what my parents say.”

“Aw, tell them to stuff it,” Espen suggested. “What's the big deal about playing hockey?”

“You _do_ have to buy all the gear.” Acke snatched the ball from Espen with the tip of his stick. “C'mon, we only have ten minutes left to play.”

As if Toki needed one more thing to stress about. Math came right after recess, with it a quiz, and surely he didn't do well. It drug down his mood right through to lunchtime. Another hockey match led to a body-check too hard, followed by chastisement from the supervisor. Thoroughly disheartened about the day, he left the game early.

“Where're you going?” Max yelled after him.

“I'm just going to get a drink.” Toki indeed bent over the water fountain in the mudroom. Should he just go back to class? And do what, until the bell rang again? Surely Lundgren sat in there, and he'd want to know why Toki wasn't playing with his friends.

“. . .They're pretty over the top.”

“Sure, there're a few songs that are, but their self-titled song is _wicked_.”

“It's got some good solos, I guess.”

Toki tip-toed closer to the nook where the piano, drum kit, and music stands were stored. The muted, twangy strings of Skwisgaar's guitar became audible.

“Anyone got the new Metallica, yet?”

“ _Pff_ , don't even bother. What a disappointment. Ja, it's a good album on it's own—sort of—but it's not their best work by far. I don't like to say a band sold out just because an album sells well, but I'm pretty sure their focus changed.”

“So? A good album's a good album.”

“If they keep going this way, classic Metallica is dead. Think: no more Four Horsemen, no more Metal Militia. . .”

“Those songs will always exist.”

“Ja, but nothing new like it. Just another rock band making mediocre rock songs and crying into a microphone. _Pff_ , dildos.”

“So I bet you're leaning toward Megadeth now?” Ludvig guffawed.

“I don't take a side in all that, but Rust in Peace beats the Black album, any day of the week.”

“You just like Hangar 18.”

“Shut up about stuff you know nothing about, Ludvig.”

“Then stop being such an elitist.”

“I like what I like.”

“ _The old stuff's better, boo hoo—_ ”

“Fuck you,” Skwisgaar said over their collective laughter. “That's not elitist, that's just being realistic.”

Toki bent down to get another drink. He'd seen that word in the bathroom stalls once in a while, until the janitor went in with either an eraser or small can of paint. Whatever 'fuck' meant, it connoted power. Its mere presentation to Skwisgaar's friends got them immediately off his back. It had all the right sounds in it too, leading Toki to whisper it under his breath as he headed to class.  

* * *

 Quickened footsteps came up behind Toki as he headed off school grounds, after the bell. “Hej.”

Forgotten, the little black cloud hovering over Toki's head skittered away. However bad things went since yesterday, none of it mattered now. Even after dealing with his father. Toki and Skwisgaar could still speak at school.

“You didn't get in trouble yesterday, did you?”

“A little, but it's okay,” Toki told another white lie. “They were just worried.”

“You didn't bring your guitar today,” Skwisgaar pointed out.

“No. . .I have to go straight home. I hope they'll let me come over again sometime.” Toki paused. “You might be invited for supper one night.”

“Oh?”

“They're a little crazy about knowing all my friends, and their parents. Your mom will probably be invited too.”

Skwisgaar pulled a face. “They don't want to meet my mom. She's. . .”

“She's what?” Toki pocketed his hands to quell the compulsion to touch Skwisgaar in some way.

“Embarrassing is one way to put it. It's already bad enough that _you're_ bound to eventually run into her.”

“Mine are embarrassing too. It's not a big deal.”

“You'll see, one day.”

They slowed to a stop at the Storgatan and Båraleden intersection. While Toki wanted to talk longer—even more, to follow Skwisgaar home—the clock ticked. “I'll let you know what my parents say, about that supper.”

“Sure.” Skwisgaar raised a hand. “See you later.”

Toki spotted him through the trees as they took their respective routes, unable to help looking. How could Skwisgaar pretend that nothing happened, that day in the bathroom? Did his kiss serve the same intention as a fight, in dismantling the tension between them?

Funny, the way Toki saw it, it only made things worse. 


	4. The Fifth Commandment

“What's this, now?”

Aslaug's cutlery came to rest, eyes boring into his son. All the courage necessary to utter the quiet request slipped from Toki's very bones. To his relief, his mother laid a hand over her husband's whitened knuckles.

“Let's hear him out.” Anja encouraged her son with a smile. “Go on, dear.”

“Roar brought it up.” Toki took a sip of water to end the dryness in his throat. “Would I be allowed to play?”

“No,” Aslaug immediately stated.

“We'll talk about it.”

Toki fought off a smirk by pursing his lips. The narrowing of his father's eyes indicated Toki would pay for his mother's undermining, but right now he didn't care. So long as he got to play hockey, his father could do whatever he wanted.

Later that night, the fear that his father might put his foot down on principle distracted Toki from his guitar. He held the strings against the fretboard when his parents' voices wafted over from the family room.

“. . .I don't appreciate you going against me on something like that, Anja. He's getting more bold, more entitled.”

“You can't just tell him no about _everything_. He's almost thirteen—he wants to have friends. Half the team attends our church, and sports are good for boys, anyway. What would you rather he do, hang out with a bunch of hooligans?”

“He wouldn't.”

“He's getting older, Aslaug. We can't just keep him at home all the time. People will wonder why he never goes out. Sòlveig commented that he seems shy.”

“She's obviously never experienced him _here_ ,” Aslaug grumbled.

“Oh, hush. It's a child's duty to rebel against his parents. Otherwise, how do they learn the importance of the fifth commandment?”

“By respect—the same way _I_ learned.”

Anja sighed impatiently through her nose. From behind the door, in his mind's eye, Toki could see her nostrils flaring. Her husband's stubbornness finally reached the end of her rope. “Things are different, nowadays. You can't shield your son from all the bad or questionable things in the world. He's going to face it all when he goes out on his own and I want him prepared to make the right choices. Maybe that means he needs to make a couple bad ones. He needs to learn the difference, to be able to think for himself. We're not always going to be with him, Aslaug. If we want him to succeed in life, he needs to find the right path on his own.”

“He's impressionable.”

“If he is, it's because he's always had to do what he's told.”

Toki scrambled back to his bed with his father's tentative concession. He invited his mother in when she knocked, already unable to contain his glee. How lucky could he get, to have his way about this?

“Did you already finish your homework?” she asked as she sat down beside.

“I didn't have any tonight.”

“I spoke with your father.” Music from the other room allowed Anja to speak at regular volume. “He's unsure, but we'll let you play if you really want to.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Toki threw his arms around her. “This means a lot to me. I can't wait to tell my friends tomorrow.”

“So we'll go to the sports store on Friday, get you signed up, and buy whatever gear you need. Sound good?”

“Um. . .” Toki's stomach dropped. “I think it's kind of expensive, to start.”

“That's okay.”

“Is it?”

“That's not something you should worry about, lille kanin,” Anja assured him. “You just concentrate on having fun. That's all that should matter to you.”

Since his mother stayed at home all day, that only left one source of income for the money to come from. While Toki never worried about the fridge being empty or the electricity getting cut off, he hated feeling like a burden to his father's wallet. If he'd thought that far ahead before blurting out his wish at the dinner table, he probably wouldn't have bothered.

“I mean it.” She pat his shoulder. “It's okay.”

“Why's he so mean about it, Mama?” Toki lowered his voice. “Why doesn't he think I deserve to have fun or friends or anything like that?”

“His father was the same way, although that's no excuse.” The grey streaks in Anja's hair, which Aslaug wouldn't let her colour, glinted in the light. “He'll adjust. He just needs to realize that you're your own person. Now that you're just about a teenager, you're going to need to learn how to be independent. You won't stay here with us forever.”

Much as Toki couldn't wait for that day to come, guilt stabbed his insides. Although leaving home would put his father in the dust, it also meant he'd be leaving his mother with the disagreeable man. 

* * *

“I never meant to get you in trouble.”

Toki shrugged it off. It didn't matter all that much, since punishment came at regular interval. Skwisgaar's level of concern made Toki uncomfortable. He didn't want the other boy to know what his home life entailed off. He didn't want him to feel bad. “It's no big deal. Don't worry about it. It'll be over soon.”

“What even happens, when you're grounded?”

“Haven't you ever been?” Toki's feet shuffled through crunchy leaves. His mother told him that morning at breakfast that the first dusting of snow arrived in Lillehammer in the night; Nedsjön couldn't be terribly far behind. “Doesn't your mom ever get mad at you if you do something stupid?”

“I don't think she really cares.” Skwisgaar shrugged. “So what do they do?”

“Usually it just means I'm not allowed to do anything. I have to go home straight after school and once I'm done my chores I'm only allowed to come out of my room if I need to.” Despite the memory of a couple harsh physical punishments biting at his backside and shoulders, Toki laughed at Skwisgaar's bemused expression. “What?”

“Wouldn't you just do that, anyway?”

Toki shoved him. While Roar, Espen, or any of his other friends would immediately deflect the playful show of aggression, Skwisgaar's noodle-like body stumbled off the sidewalk. It took all his weight behind both hands to so much as interrupt Toki's walking pattern.

“I was being serious.”

“Not all of us like to sit in our rooms all day. You have the whole house to yourself usually, don't you?”

“My mom called from Borås, last night. She'll be home, now.” Skwisgaar wrinkled his nose.

All the slights Skwisgaar made toward his mother made Toki all the more curious to meet her. She couldn't be as bad as Skwisgaar implied. If she let him do whatever, didn't give him trouble, and let him have the run of the house at their age, then why didn't he find her as cool as she sounded? Regardless, Toki liked the idea that she spent so much time away. A constant preoccupation before slumber led him to dream about when he'd finally be allowed to return to the other boy's house. He could make his move under everyone else's assumption of friendship. They could take their time about it and kiss wherever they wanted, unlike the two couples in their class that always had to sneak a quick one in behind the trees near the school's boundary line.

A car slowed to a stop on the other side of the road. Toki peered around Skwisgaar when his name was called. “I thought we were going later?”

“The store will be closed by suppertime,” Anja called back.

“Guess I gotta go.” With another glance to make sure his father didn't tag along, Toki stalled on the sidewalk. “Can Skwisgaar come?”

“He probably needs to get home.”

Skwisgaar shrugged under weight of both their attention. “Not really. My mom wouldn't care.”

“Come on, then.” Toki pulled Skwisgaar across the street. Sports might not be Skwisgaar's forte, but he appeared relaxed with his backpack between his legs and guitar situated in his lap. Out of habit, he practiced his scales. Toki's own inclination to steal glances had to be kept in check; while he and his mother conversed, she tended to make a lot of eye contact through the rear view mirror.

“So this is your friend?”

“Ja, this is Skwisgaar. And this is my mom, Anja,” Toki formally introduced them. Thankfully, Skwisgaar's instrument invited a polite conversational topic between there and the sports store a couple blocks away. Not that Toki expected his mother to drill Skwisgaar like his father surely would. Maybe, if his mother grew comfortable with Skwisgaar here, they didn't all need to sit down to supper. While Toki preemptively held Serveta in high regard, she didn't seem the type that would impress his parents. Anja pressed for a more lasses-faire approach to parenting lately, as many of the Swedish women she met here possessed, but that didn't mean she would endorse a kid being left alone for days at a time. Skwisgaar fended well for himself—he made it to school everyday and didn't appear malnourished—so that was all that should really matter, right?

A change in focus for Nedsjön's sport calendar brought a display of yellow, red, and blue jerseys into Sportlabbet's front window. Toki hadn't paid attention to last year's Elitserien League results, but learned quickly after befriending Roar that Djurgårdens IF took home the latest championship. While other jerseys too hung inside the store, those wishing to hop the bandwagon had their crucial purchases laid out for them. Some older kids that Toki recognized from school sneered at the predominant colours and preferred to hover near the Färjestads BK colours—last year's runners-up in the League.

Toki headed straight for the front counter. His excitement manifested as his toe rapidly tapping against the floor. He grinned when a beefy, middle-aged man with a moustache and slightly receded hairline took up position behind the counter. “I haven't met you before.”

“I only moved here last month. My name's Toki. Can I sign up for hockey?”

“Here you go.” He placed the appropriate form before the boy, smiled at Anja and Skwisgaar, then carried on organizing skates. Tongue poked out, Toki carefully began scrawling pertinent information across the dotted lines, but eventually handed the responsibility over to his mother so that he and Skwisgaar could stroll through the aisles.

“I can't wait to start.” Toki's fingers skimmed over the sticks, keeping an eye for the left-handed ones. “This is going to be so fun.”

“I guess, if you like this kind of stuff.”

“Just imagine you're in a music shop. Same feeling.”

Skwisgaar lifted his chin. “All right, I get that.”

“Would you ever come watch the games?”

“The home games, maybe.”

“What if we gave you a ride out of town?”

“Why do you want me to come, huh?”

Toki peered over the shelf to survey the store. His mother doled out his entrance fee at the front counter and the fifteen-year-olds migrated toward the door. With no one else around, Toki saw his chance. Feigning focus on yet another stick, he sought out Skwisgaar's hand. Their pinkies grazing elicited a twitch, but before Toki could fear he'd made a mistake, Skwisgaar pressed back against him. An entire swarm of butterflies emerged from behind those Toki normally experienced in Skwisgaar's presence. Their fingers fumbled together, calloused tips from constant fretwork pressing in between Toki's metacarpals. Toki feared looking, but felt compelled. As soon as their gazes met, they fell away. A darkening in Skwisgaar's cheeks mirrored itself as heat in Toki's face, as well.

“About time,” Skwisgaar said under his breath.

“ _You_ could've done something.”

“It's been funny, watching you squirm.”

Toki scoffed. “You're kind of a jerk, aren't you?”

“Do you think so?”

It didn't deter Toki. In the silence that descended between them, he suppressed the urge to try for more. He wanted those pillowy lips pressing against his, he wanted to touch Skwisgaar's legs and butt, and he wanted to push Skwisgaar again like he had on the sidewalk. If only his mother wasn't _right there_. Why did it have to be such a covert operation?

“Toki,” Anja addressed him from the counter. Immediately, their hands retracted. “Come over here, please.”

The store's owner maneuvered Toki throughout the aisles over the next hour, staying open late in order to set him up with the appropriate equipment. Although already excited, Toki's elation to have _finally_ touched Skwisgaar sent his innards aquiver. All he wanted as he slid into the back seat of his mother's grey Volvo was to resume their previous affection. Unfortunately, the risk couldn't be taken.

“Where do you live, Skwisgaar? I'll drop you off.”

“Um. . .down Båraleden.” Skwisgaar's fingers quickened on the fretboard. “You can drop me off anywhere, though.”

“That's fine, I don't mind. Which house?”

Even more, Toki wanted to touch Skwisgaar. Could it be _that_ bad? Why was he so nervous about them meeting his mom? He had his bag gathered before the car came to a stop in front of the small, lit cabin.

Anja too undid her seatbelt. “I just want to say hello, if that's all right. I've been meaning to catch up with your mother, to invite the two of you to supper.”

Toki chewed on his bottom lip when Skwisgaar's stress magnified. Out of respect, he stayed in the car while Anja accompanied Skwisgaar up to the door. Before they got there, it opened. Leaned up against the driver's seat, Toki's lips fell apart. For a moment, he thought this woman might actually be Skwisgaar's grandmother. She didn't at all resemble the pictures on the wall inside. Her hair was short and flat, skin dull and saggy. The ghost of makeup, along with a cigarette burning away between her fingers, aged her considerably. Toki felt both his mother's shock and friend's embarrassment at what she'd dressed in for the evening. Did she wear anything under that robe? Gross!

Skwisgaar slunk through the door, leaving their mothers to speak. While Serveta leaned laxly against her doorframe, Anja rubbed her upper arms. How hard could a woman be, to read? Serveta nodded boredly, sucked at her cigarette, and cracked not one smile in the short exchange. Toki resituated in his seat before his mother slipped back into the front. Without a word, she put the car in gear. Toki didn't know what to say, either. Skwisgaar never told him what to expect.

“I didn't bring up supper,” she finally said as they came to rest in their driveway. “I hope that doesn't offend Skwisgaar, but I felt it might've been more embarrassing for him anyway if I invited them over. Do you think he'll understand?”

“I think so.” Toki undid his seatbelt and rested his chin on his mother's shoulder. “I'll talk to him on Monday, anyway.”

“And I know what your father would say.” Anja killed the engine. “I think he's a nice boy. I don't see why you can't spend time with him. I'm not entirely sure about you going over to his house, though.”

“I've been there once and it was fine.”

“You hadn't met her though, had you?”

“Nei. . .she wasn't there, that day.”

Anja sighed. “I don't know, Toki. What do you think about her?”

“I don't really know what to think. She's kind of scary, but I don't want that to stop me from palling around with Skwisgaar. It's not _his_ fault if his mom is. . .weird.”

“That's true. Maybe it would be best if you two visited here.”

“Aw, but Mama. He needs an amp to play his guitar and I always have so many chores to do. He'd get bored.”

“I'll think about it, okay? She's cold and hard to gauge, but I don't think she's a bad person. Maybe not so much her lifestyle. . .” Anja stopped herself. “I shouldn't judge her.”

“You're not going to tell Papa about her, are you?”

“Nei. We'll let this be our little secret.” 

* * *

Toki spent his weekend in a constant state of pacing. His homework and chores took twice as long as usual to finish. He couldn't pay attention in church. Skwisgaar consumed him completely, in both good and bad ways. Toki still rode on the exhilaration of holding his hand in Sportlabbet, as well as the anxiety about his mother. Skwisgaar probably shut himself up in his room and played his fingers raw against his guitar. Poor guy. What Toki wouldn't give to sneak out of the house for a little bit, get down Båraleden, and—

“Toki, come here.”

Any positive feeling immediately dripped from Toki's being. That tone. Perhaps jacked up on his well-received sermon about the fifth commandment, the time finally came for Toki's true punishment after undermining his authority. He sat on his bed with his head bowed over his guitar, hoping he hadn't really heard, when his father's voice came again.

“Toki, _come_.”

Where was his mother? Oh, he should've gone with her to the market. Why did he want to come home? Right, he didn't. . .his father suggested it. If Toki hadn't been so distracted, maybe he would've recognized an ulterior motive.

Aslaug wasn't in the family room. Dragging his feet, Toki headed for the master bedroom. Sure enough, the man had removed his belt. “Tell me what you learned today.”

“Um. . .”

“Were you even listening?” Without waiting for a response, Aslaug pointed at the end of the bed. “Bend over.”

“Papa—”

“ _Bend over_.”

Toki's knees trembled. The cocktail of emotion that slowed his weekend to a crawl gave way for an all-out stop. He _knew_ this was coming. How could he even forget? Skwisgaar was such a good distraction. Closing his eyes, Toki mentally removed himself from his body and tried to find a better place elsewhere. In Skwisgaar's room, maybe even in his bed—

 _Crack_.

The sound of the belt cutting the air was always worse than the impact. Biting down on his bottom lip, Toki suppressed any and all noise. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction, even if tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Honour they mother and father,” Aslaug stated, close to Toki's ear. “Is it so hard?”

“Nei. . .”

“Then why can't you do it?” _Crack_. “Why is respect such a difficult concept for you to grasp?”

The blanket bunched in Toki's grasp. That one _stung_. “I _do_ respect you, Papa!”

“Then why are you _always_ defying me?”

“I'm sorry!” With a third burst of pain, this time on his lower back, Toki felt regretful in the moment. Maybe it'd be worth not playing hockey or palling around with Skwisgaar, if he could just spend a quiet Sunday afternoon with his guitar. “I'll be better, I'll be better!”

“You'd better damn well.” Toki squealed as his father grabbed him by the hair and lugged him back to his room. His elbows and side ached where they collided with the floor. “I hope for your sake you earn forgiveness from God. I suggest you start praying.” 


	5. Window of Opportunity

Toki's backside still smarted as he dressed for school in the morning, but no number of licks could quell his good mood. He absolutely refused to allow it. No matter what his father did, it changed nothing about the positive things happening in Toki's life. He still got to play hockey and he still got to pal around with Skwisgaar. His mother was on his side, which probably drove Aslaug crazy the most. Much as he loved his wife, what husband liked having his say over the household constantly thwarted? Personally, if Toki married a girl when he got older, he wouldn't be so bossy with her. It obviously didn't work.

A smile whenever he and Skwisgaar's gaze met all throughout the early morning marked Toki's fluttering heart. However, his crush transformed to extreme anxiety when Skwisgaar failed to return any of his attempted fondness. Did he already change his mind? Did he regret what they did at the sport store?

Well, too bad. Toki wasn't going to let him get away with coldness. Though their paths never crossed at recess or lunch, Toki caught him alone after school on his way home. “What's up with _you?_ ”

“Oh. . .hi.”

“Ja, hi. Why're you such a stranger today? Don't just shrug!”

“I know what you think.”

“Think about _what?_ ” Confusion only made Toki angry. After making sure no one else walking home paid attention, Toki lowered his voice as extra precaution. “I don't know _what_ to think. You're so annoying. You— _kissed_ me in the bathroom at school, then you don't say anything. You let me hold your hand at Sportlabbet, and now you're acting like we don't even know each other. Either 'fess up or quit it.”

Skwisgaar pursed his lips. “I think we're talking about two different things.”

“Well then just tell me why you've been so moody today, geez.”

“You know I'm embarrassed about her.”

“Who, your mom? God Skwisgaar, get over it. Like I told you, everyone's moms are embarrassing. You think I really give a crap about that?”

“She's a whore.” Skwisgaar shoved his hands into his pockets. “Not literally, but—well, maybe. I don't know. She gets money from somewhere.”

“What's the big deal? I still don't care. How does that change anything about you?”

“I saw how your mom looked at her.”

“So?”

“And I'm not dumb, I hear what people say around town.”

“So?” Toki repeated. “Like I said, I don't care about your mom. I want to be friends with _you_. My mom said it's okay for us to pal around, so whatever, right?”

“She did?”

“Ja, you're allowed to come to my house sometime. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I'm. . .” Skwisgaar sighed. “I'm not allowed at any of my other friends' houses, because their parents don't like my mom. If my mom hasn't fucked their dads, then she's at least tried to.”

The expletive jarred Toki's system. “She. . .what?”

“She fucks them, and lots more. What do you think a whore does, Toki? They told you about them in church, didn't they?”

Sort of. Whenever that word crossed Aslaug's lips, all Toki had to go on was the negative reaction in the pews. So whores slept with lots of men? That meant she got naked with them, touched them, stuff like that. Finally, Toki appreciated the other boy's shame. Hearing his parents sometimes through the thin walls at their old home was bad enough—what if _his_ mom did that with a total stranger?

“ _Now_ what do you say?”

“That's still just your mom. What does it mean about _you?_ ”

“Hopefully nothing. Your family's religious, though. I don't get why they'd let you hang around with someone like me.”

“My mom has a brain of her own, you know. Just because _your_ mom's like that doesn't automatically mean you're no good. So long as you're nice and don't get me in trouble, then what does it matter?”

Skwisgaar laughed mirthlessly. “'Don't get you in trouble.' That's funny.”

“Why?”

“Eh, never mind.” A deep exhale as they came up to Båraleden lifted what weighed down Skwisgaar's shoulders. Toki couldn't suppress the smile that plagued him that morning, before his mood was shot. This felt good, so why couldn't Skwisgaar maintain eye contact? “No one's ever been that nice about it. All my other friends tease me. You _really_ don't care?”

“If I did, would I be talking to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Just calm down, okay?” Toki gripped his backpack straps to avoid touching Skwisgaar. “It's not that big of a deal. You don't think I'm a Jesus freak, do you?”

“No.”

“But my parents are.”

Finally, that logic brought forth the contentment Toki waited all day to see. Why did they have to be standing on a street, with kids all around them? Why couldn't they rush off behind something without the grown-ups knowing what they did? However happy Toki felt for restored equilibrium, this part of it frustrated him. He'd liked other boys and girls back in Lillehammer, but not to this degree. Maybe because the girls didn't requite him and the boys only wanted girls, but _wowie_ , this was his chance to share something really special with someone.

“Are we cool, then?”

“Sure.” Skwisgaar tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

Parting like mere pals nearly sent Toki to a despairing crawl the remainder of the way home. Dramatic, he knew, but accurate. Everyone _else_ got to head behind the Make Out Bush, so what made he and Skwisgaar so different that they couldn't?

* * *

Toki hung off the archway separating the kitchen and family room. “Papa, dinner's ready.”

In attempt to be as well behaved as possible, Toki straightened his father's cutlery on the way to his chair. He sat away from the table until Aslaug sat, then pulled himself in without scuffing against the floor. All week, all he'd done upon returning home was act in accordance to his father's wishes; he went immediately to the firewood, helped his mother with dinner, and sought out chores in the lull between. Not that Toki feared further repercussion—he merely buttered the man up. Judging by the pat on his upper arm, he'd accomplished that. To push it even further, he nodded enthusiastically when asked if he'd like to say grace.

“. . .Amen,” he finished. Only after Aslaug took up his fork did Toki do the same. If respect would get him what he wanted, then Toki could fake it right through to the end of the world. “Papa?”

“Yes, my little son?”

Toki remained casual to obscure a further swell of hope. Although he'd more than earned some kind of reward for his behaviour, he still feared his father's ability to turn without warning. “Would it be all right if I invited a friend over for supper, one night?”

“Which friend?”

“His name is Skwisgaar. He's in my class at school.” Toki pointedly avoided meeting his mother's gaze.

“Skwisgaar. . .” Aslaug furrowed his brow. “Which family does he belong to?”

“His last name is Skwigelf.”

“Skwigelf? Serveta wouldn't happen to be his mother, would she?”

Uh oh. The curl of disgust in Aslaug's upper lip razed Toki's optimism. Maybe it didn't matter _how_ well he behaved, if Serveta's reputation preceded. “Ja, she is.”

“Do you even know who that woman _is_ , Toki? Far as I can surmise from the men I've spoken to amongst the congregation, she's responsible for over half the divorces in Nedsjön.”

“Oh, really?” Toki played stupid, poking his potatoes.

“You're too young to hear the extent of it, but she's a home wrecker. I'm not sure that I feel comfortable with her son around.”

“Dear,” Anja piped up from the opposite end of the table, “think of it this way. Her son is only thirteen, and what kind of a role model does he have? He doesn't even have a father.”

“ _That_ doesn't surprise me.” While Aslaug cut his sausage, Toki caught a wink from his mother. “You've met him?”

“I've met both. Skwisgaar's a good boy. As for his mother, well.” No need to say anymore.

“To be honest, I've thought about him once in a while. It's a shame that her looseness produced life. That poor child should have been ripped from her hands at the hospital.”

Were these the sort of things people said about Skwisgaar, in town? Maybe Toki shouldn't have brought him up. Then again, if Aslaug took that particular stance, Skwisgaar might be _welcomed_ in their home, rather than merely tolerated and looked down upon. “I never guessed his mom was like that. He's only ever nice.”

“I don't suppose he has the opportunity to attend church.”

Toki shook his head, already having prepared a lie. “He told me his mom sleeps in on Sundays, and she doesn't ever go anyway.”

“No surprise,” Aslaug mumbled under his breath. “He's always welcome to come with us, if he likes.”

“I'll ask him and see what he says.” While maintaining a calm exterior, Toki urged to excuse himself to the bathroom so that he could properly celebrate such a turn of luck. “So he can come for supper sometime?”

“Of course. Given what lazy parenting he's experienced in his life, he needs the example of a healthy, proper family.”

* * *

“. . .And maybe don't mention metal or anything. It'll just make my dad that much more annoying about trying to convert you—”

“Hey,” Skwisgaar cut him off. “It's okay. I've been to homes like yours before.”

How could he be so calm about this? Toki recalled very little from the first day back to school after the weekend, obsessed as he was on making this perfect. If he wanted the chance for Skwisgaar to visit again—and maybe to go over to _his_ place, by extension—this needed to go off without a hitch. He'd sold Skwisgaar as polite and curious about their faith. One slip, and their entire friendship outside of school could be shut down. Given how much they got to pal around _during_ school hours, that pretty much doomed them completely.

“Really, it'll be fine,” Skwisgaar assured him.

“My dad knows you don't go to church, so you don't have to pretend like you do. He said you can come with us on Sundays, but only if you want. It's pretty lame.”

“I'll think about it, maybe.”

No matter how boring that whole thing could be, an extra hour or two a week with Skwisgaar would be great. Hopefully so much more time together than they were used to wouldn't tire them of one another. While Toki failed to imagine his fascination's end, could Skwisgaar find him exciting enough to reciprocate the severity of his infatuation? Already he sensed how much further he'd gone in all this. Stupid Skwisgaar, for throwing him off so effectively with that kiss. Would Toki even focus on the boy like this, if that never happened?

No point wondering, now. It was what it was. Toki ached to take his hand and, given the chance, make Skwisgaar feel the same way toward him. The possibility existed; Skwisgaar initiated _all_ of this, and their brief contact in Sportlabbet confirmed some degree of reciprocation. Inability to truly concrete this left so much up in the air. _If only_ Toki could get Skwisgaar alone for _two minutes_. He should've taken his chance when alone in Skwisgaar's bedroom.

Unfortunately, while his father's white Volvo had yet to return home, Anja's car sat in the driveway. She came out of the kitchen as Toki slipped his shoes off, greeting both boys with a smile.

So far, so good. Toki lingered while Skwisgaar did a quick catch-up with Anja, answering the obligatory questions about how school went and how his mother kept—both fine, so he said—then Toki gave Skwisgaar a quick tour of the house. It wasn't very large; he could point out nearly everything from the family room. They ended up in Toki's bedroom, where he experienced sudden panic as Skwisgaar took its plainness in. Toki should've spruced it up last night. How boring could this look, compared to that stereo, all those tapes, and that amp?

“I don't have much to do here,” he mumbled.

Skwisgaar took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You could finally show me how you play.”

“I'm not as good as you.”

“So? I want to hear.”

“It won't be the same, since you can't play yours.”

Skwisgaar grabbed the acoustic instrument from its corner and held it out to him. “I can play mine, but you just won't be able to hear it. Come on, show me. Unless you can't, and you've just been pretending all along for a reason to talk to me.”

Even though his mother wouldn't have heard that over the sound of running water, Toki's ears burned. Skwisgaar could smirk all he liked, but that was dangerous. He got what he wanted, though; Toki lowered himself onto the bed and set the instrument on his lap. Shaky hands equated to a rough start. With a deep breath, Toki attempted to forget his audience. He only needed to play like he normally did, in here. Unfortunately, he couldn't offer much beyond the music he'd grown up listening to. A keen ear meant he recalled the order of notes heard on Skwisgaar's stereo that one afternoon, but unpracticed fingers couldn't replicate it quite yet. He was too terrified to try it in front of the other boy yet, for fear of coming off as a total beginner.

Certain Skwisgaar heard enough after a couple songs, Toki stopped. Skwisgaar leaned back on his hands, and suddenly Toki felt like Skwisgaar's entire opinion of him could boil down to this.

“Not bad.”

“You don't have to pretend you like it. I'm not as good as you and I can only play this kind of stuff.”

“Even if that's true, it doesn't mean you're bad at it. How long have you played?”

“I got this as a combined birthday-Christmas gift a couple years ago. I try to practice as much as I can, but I've got the piano, too.” Toki glanced at the instrument, the edge of which was visible against the family room wall. “I've been playing more, since I got here.”

Skwisgaar nudged Toki with his shoulder. “Wanted to impress me?”

“What's it to _you?_ ” Toki lowered his voice in kind. Would his mother suspect what a closed door meant, should Toki nudge it shut? Maybe he should show Skwisgaar around outside, and dip behind the shop with him. Oh, why hadn't he started on that tree fort _now_ , rather than wait for spring? There had to be _somewhere_ they could go with one stupid moment's worth of privacy—

“Toki, can you come here?”

Leaving Skwisgaar and his frenzied thoughts in his room, Toki poked his nose into the kitchen.

“I need you to watch the rice, to make sure it doesn't boil over. I've got to run next door to borrow some flour.”

“Are you making pancakes for dessert?” Toki asked to disguise his glee.

“Sure am.” Anja squeezed his shoulder on her way to the door. “I won't be long.”

Make sure the rice didn't boil over, his butt. One peek at it and he bolted back for his room. Between having to clean the stove later and _finally_ getting the chance to be alone with Skwisgaar, the choice was obvious. Could he really be so lucky? No time to think about it, that was for sure. How long could borrowing an ingredient take?

Skwisgaar still sat on his bed, cross-legged with his own guitar situated in his lap. His fingers eased over the frets, though slowed with Toki's return. He hadn't been paying attention; he hardly had time to react as Toki held him by the shoulders and clashed their teeth in enthusiasm.

“Ow,” Toki remarked, embarrassed. Skwisgaar too held a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

With a heavy exhale, Skwisgaar pulled Toki to sit beside him again. “You shouldn't go in that hard. We're alone?”

“Not for long.”

Skwisgaar turned his ear in direction of the front door, listening, then slid closer until their hips pressed. “Try it like this, instead.”

A pounding heart required effort for Toki to keep his breath steady. In the dying day filtering through his window, the light spatter of freckles on Skwisgaar's cheekbones became more noticeable. Toki shifted as wordlessly instructed, allowing for his hair to be pushed out of the way and his lips to be parted with mild pressure to his chin. For the frenzied muscle in his chest, Toki suspected it might just stop when Skwisgaar came close enough for their noses to touch.

A shaking hand rubbed Skwisgaar's back through his sweater, then looped around his shoulder in order to keep him close. Like in the school bathroom, contact between them lasted no more than a few seconds. Toki leaned back in, not yet done, and mirrored the subtle touch of lips that differentiated hard from soft, savage from gentle. After _so long_ , this happened. Toki no longer needed to dwell on motive or if Skwisgaar only messed with him. This cinched it—grounded them. Toki's stomach dropped pleasantly when their gazes met afterward. As much as he wished to look away in sheepishness, he couldn't. The way Skwisgaar's lips swelled up a bit (more because of their collision than what followed) held his attention.

“How much longer do we have?”

“Not long enough.” Toki pulled Skwisgaar up by the hand. “Come into the kitchen with me. I have to watch this stuff and I don't feel like doing it alone.” 


	6. Role Models

Voices bounced liberally off the ice, clashing with the equally-echoey music. Now that the hockey rink had been filled in, public skating became an after-school option. Waking up early in order to do his chores earned Toki the right to come here right after the final bell. He expected just to tag-along with Roar, Karl, Espen, and Acke, but as soon as Skwisgaar caught wind of his plans, the two of them fell in step instead.

“This isn't working so well.” Skwisgaar reached out to grab the rink's edge as once again his skate wobbled. Doubling back, Toki eyed his lace job.

“Well, there's your problem. C'mere.” Toki pulled him back toward the home team bench and forced him to sit. The size of Skwisgaar's feet seemed to shrink when the laces were pulled taut from the lowest pair of eyelets and up. “When I said tight, I meant _tight_. You're lucky you didn't get far enough to break an ankle.”

“I thought you meant the bow.”

“Uh-uh. Like _this_.” Toki didn't bother to request what felt right; he'd learned from Petersson at Sportlabbet that the skate stopped when it stopped, in that regard. “See if that's better.”

Skwisgaar couldn't blame the rental pairs anymore, although his leisurely pace demonstrated a lack of attendance at Nedsjön's recreational centre. Toki wanted to accuse Skwisgaar of coming along solely in order for them to spend some time together, but didn't wish to be told otherwise. It would be great if, like the teenaged couple they trailed behind, their gloved hands could intertwine. Unfortunately, even though Toki didn't arrive with his other school friends, they were still here. Toki didn't wish to be teased for how his attention focused, like anyone else in his class that paired up.

“So when's your first practice?” Skwisgaar asked.

“It's on every Tuesday and Thursday from six to seven, starting next week.”

“Excited?”

“Kind of nervous. I'm not sure what to expect.” Toki did all he could for preparation. When Roar came over earlier in the week, Toki put on his skates and marked his stick at nose level so that the two of them could cut the end off. Before taping the knob and blade, Roar showed him how to use a stove unit to glue its two sections together. “I think I'm finally breaking my skates in.”

“Are your blisters getting better?”

“Not really. Regular bandages just keep rubbing off, so I'm trying hockey tape.”

Skwisgaar laughed. “Whatever works, I guess.”

“Hey Toki!” Roar came up from behind them, pulling a one-eighty and coasting backwards. “We're all gonna have a race. You in?”

Prospect of leaving the four of them in the dust kindled Toki's competitive side. “Ja, sure. Skwisgaar?”

“ _Pff_ , I already know I'd lose.”

Not long after an announcement prompted all the skaters to change direction, Toki noticed his mother seated amongst fellow parents. Some of the women she chatted with didn't belong to their congregation, but the arena seemed to promote a different culture; religion was irrelevant to whatever fun they found here. That elated Toki's mood similarly to how attending church should. Rather than dwell and feel guilty as result, Toki continued to lead Skwisgaar in laps and branch off whenever his hockey buddies prodded him hard enough. Balancing the odds of his social life came with slight difficulty, but the straightening of Skwisgaar's spine whenever Toki resumed his side quickly became addictive.

“Hei, boys.” Anja caught up to them in line at the rental booth window, where they waited to hand Skwisgaar's skates back in. “Have fun?”

Toki confirmed so with a nod, diverting the urge to hug Skwisgaar by embracing his mother instead. “Thanks for letting us come.”

“Anytime. Now that all your excess energy is spent, you'll be ready to write that report.”

Groaning at its reminder, Toki slumped against the corridor wall. “Social Studies is so stupid. I don't want to do it.”

“Too bad, lille kanin. Maybe you shouldn't have waited until the night before the due date, hm?”

At least Skwisgaar coming over presented a perk in the entire situation. Toki looked forward to huddling up in his room at the desk, but the suggestion that for space's sake they utilize the kitchen table instead made Toki inwardly sigh. Not since Skwisgaar visited on the previous Monday had Toki been able to sneak in any affection outside of his imagination. His mother's constant presence as she went about preparing for Aslaug to finish his workday didn't better the prospects.

She set a plate of sliced vegetables with some dip between them. “So what're you working on, exactly?”

“We're on a unit about the Soviet Union coming to an end,” Toki replied. “Everyone in class has a part about it. Mine's Berlin.”

Skwisgaar leisurely flipped through his notes. “Yeltsin, for me.”

“Are you learning anything interesting?” Anja asked as she sat down opposite them. “Everyone's talking about the USSR, but I'm afraid I've mostly buried my head in the sand about it.”

“Well, Berlin got split up after World War II, and they knocked the wall down a couple years ago. That's about as far as I've gotten.”

“Yeltsin's the first President of—what do they call it here—the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. He was one of Gorbachev's most powerful political opponents. . .”

Toki had to check himself from a smitten smile as Skwisgaar relayed the research he'd compiled over the last week. One glance from his mother would give his crush completely away. None of the other kids Skwisgaar spent his recess and lunch breaks with boasted any sort of intelligence, so this proved to Toki that he'd discovered the one piece of gold amongst that trash pile.

“So it's all really going away, huh?”

“Seems so, according to Lundgren.” Skwisgaar consulted with Toki, who nodded. In actuality, Toki didn't really know. He hadn't been paying attention, choosing instead to stare at Skwisgaar's profile in class. Who cared about Russia or the Soviet Union, anyway? Aside from whispers in Lillehammer about a silent though heavy force to the east, this subject unit was the first time Toki really ever heard about it. “The government's been dissolved and satellite states keep claiming independence.”

“You're a bright boy, Skwisgaar,” Anja complimented him as she stood to tend to the stove. “You're welcome to come over anytime to do homework. Maybe your enthusiasm for your studies will rub off a little more on Toki.”

“Mama,” Toki lamented. “I do just fine, in school.”

“The last time I spoke to Lundgren, he said that attention seems to be an issue.”

“Why'd you talk to him?” Toki's heart skipped a beat. Did Lundgren notice where his gaze diverted to, and did he tell his mom by extent?

“I wanted to know why he assigns so much homework, since you're constantly swamped by it.” Anja cast a stern glance in his direction. “I'm glad to hear you manage to get it all done, but I wish you'd use your class time a little more productively.”

“Ja, Mama.” Busted, maybe he ought to pick up his socks. He couldn't risk either of his parents discovering his degree of involvement with Skwisgaar. Should Lundgren ever hold it over his head as a threat to tell, Toki would never ever let his gaze wander from the blackboard.

* * *

Toki held reservation toward being alone with his father after all the tension that sprung up between them, but Saturday morning came with little choice otherwise. They still needed to fetch more firewood for the winter to come, and time slowly ran out before snow would cover the area. Their proximity to the coast, not to mention the town's snuggled position between Västra Nedsjön and Östra Nedsjön, held it at bay for now. “What about in there? Do you think it's dry enough?”

“Only one way to find out.” Aslaug pulled their pickup to the roadside. Before the engine could cut, Toki jogged over to the fallen Scots pine in order to investigate. Smiling, he turned back to his father. “Ja, this'll work good, I think.”

Aslaug started up the chainsaw while Toki dug underneath his seat for work gloves. He maintained distance, waiting for his father to get far enough down the line before he'd start transferring logs toward the vehicle. While he remembered a jacket and hat to keep warm, he'd accidentally left his safety glasses in the shop. When sawdust became less of a threat, a wide berth around the spray's trajectory put him past a patch of bushes where blackberries would return come spring. He mentally noted the area, in case he wished to return then.

“How about you stack, and I'll toss them up to you?” his father suggested when he'd cut enough to fill the pickup box. He wiped his forehead on the arm of his jacket as Toki obediently leapt up.

They went about the chore in general silence, concentrating on getting somewhere that their breath wouldn't mist. Although his father didn't speak much, Toki felt good about how they currently got along. Back home, a clap on the shoulder came once Toki set the last piece of new wood up in their shed. “Good work, my little son. Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime.” Toki really didn't have a choice, unless he wished to be either berated or hit, but the elation that came with pleasing his father made volunteering for the chore more than worth it. “Was there anything else that needed done, today?”

“I don't think so. Do you have homework?”

“Ja, but Skwisgaar and I were going to go to the library after church tomorrow to work on our projects. If that's okay,” Toki carefully added.

“Are you sure it's open tomorrow?” Aslaug's brow furrowed in contemplation. “I seem to recall that it's not.”

“I could call and see?”

Turned out Aslaug was right. Thwarted in the plans he'd made, Toki brainstormed at the kitchen table. “If Skwisgaar isn't busy, can we go today? It's not due until Wednesday, but I wanted to get it all done before hockey starts.”

“I don't see why not.” Aslaug didn't look up from where he sifted through a pile of mail, so missed the flood of glee on his son's expression. Hiding it through his leisurely pace toward the phone, Toki tapped in the numbers he'd already memorized.

“This is the Skwigelf residence, Serveta speaking.”

“Hi, Mrs. Skwigelf. This is Toki, I'm in Skwisgaar's class. Is he available?”

“One moment, darling.”

How strange, to be called that by a woman that Toki hadn't even met. She at least sounded livelier than she seemed when he first laid eyes upon her. Confirming that she possibly had a good day, Skwisgaar didn't sound so bummed out when his voice came through the line. Then again, Toki thought (and hoped a little), that could be because his mom told him who called.

“Hej, what's up?”

“Nothing much, really. Just got in from getting firewood.” Toki paused. “Um, I realized that the library's closed tomorrow, it being Sunday and all. If you're not up to anything, we could go today?”

Skwisgaar agreed without bothering to ask his mom, so Toki jumped in for a quick shower before filling his backpack with everything he'd need. Heading off toward the Skwigelf abode put a spring in his step; if only Skwisgaar's mother wasn't home. That way, they could just stay there and get in all the kisses they hadn't been able to since the first time Skwisgaar came to his house for dinner. However, Toki needed to be careful. If he got caught up in something like that, his parents would have questions as to why an afternoon supposedly spent at the library wound up so unproductive. With so many untraveled miles existing between him and Skwisgaar, Toki couldn't afford at this point to be busted. Well, really, he couldn't _ever_ afford that.

As Skwisgaar's house came into view, nerves struck Toki. He still hadn't really acquainted himself to Serveta, and if she was home today, that probably meant the time came. Hoping she'd gone somewhere in the time it took to get over here, Toki knocked loudly enough for Skwisgaar to hear from his room. His stomach flipped when a woman instead smiled down.

“Skwisgaar's just about ready to go.” Thankfully, the cold weather prompted Serveta to dress more conservatively. She no longer physically mirrored a week spent away from home, possibly in the arms of some man whispering promises he'd never uphold. More, she resembled the moments in time encapsulated through the photographs hanging on her walls. “He's in his room, if you want to go up.”

Did he ever. Thanking Serveta and shedding his backpack along with his jacket and shoes at the door, Toki nearly took the stairs two at a time in his haste. Skwisgaar's butt was the first thing he gained view of, on the landing. Gaze stuck, the fact that Skwisgaar dug for something beneath his bed came secondary in importance. “What're you looking for?”

“I'm trying to get together all the books I've borrowed from the library, but I'm not sure what happened to one of them.” That explained why, when Toki left Serveta in the living room, she scanned over a bookshelf without genuine intent to actually read anything.

“Which one?”

“That, um. . .” Skwisgaar sighed as he tried to recall. “I forget what it's called exactly, but the short one that just does a general overview of Russian history.”

Toki's face split into a slow smile; that changed hands to him, when asked if anything existed therein about Berlin. Any trace of concern melting away that Skwisgaar might need to pay for the lost book, Toki cautiously rested the bedroom door against the frame. Something told him that Serveta would care significantly less, should she look upstairs and realize she could no longer see what her son and his friend did.

He kneeled down near Skwisgaar's head, lowering his voice. “It's in my backpack. Don't worry about it.”

“You're sure?” Big blue eyes peered up in relief.

“Ja, you left it with me. Remember?”

Skwisgaar's brow knitted as he briefly scanned the floor to jog his memory, then he sighed again, this time in relief. “Right.”

“Don't say anything just yet,” Toki suggested when Skwisgaar made to call the search off downstairs. “Far as she knows. . .”

A grin and chuckle preceded an advance. Balance wasn't easy to maintain if Skwisgaar used Toki's knee as leverage to lean up, prompting him to take a seat on the floor. More importantly, Toki couldn't groan in mingled relief and excitement when soft lips warmed him up after his chilly walk. His fingers ran through shoulder-length hair before settling on Skwisgaar's bony shoulder, keeping him close. Who knew when their next chance would come?

“I need to lose things more often,” Skwisgaar commented.

“You should.” Toki snuck one more peck before Skwisgaar stood up. Brushing his knees, Skwisgaar addressed his mother from the landing with a white lie that he'd found the book buried amongst the junk beneath his bed. She asked no questions, only ran her fingers through her hair when they returned to the main floor.

“Before you go, Skwisgaar,” she returned to the kitchen, prompting the boys to follow, “I put you together a snack. Toki, would you like one too?”

“Oh, no thank you.” Aware the Skwigelf family didn't have much to its name, Toki politely declined. “I actually ate lunch before coming.”

However, at the library, as Skwisgaar munched away on pretzels and cookies after trading his previously borrowed books for new ones, Toki wished he'd agreed. After catching him looking one too many times, Skwisgaar turned one of the little baggies in his direction. “Help yourself, if you'd like.”

“I probably shouldn't.”

“Who cares, after I've eaten so many times at your house?”

Good point; well, it wouldn't hurt to just have a couple. “Is it a good thing, that your mom's home?”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Why?”

“You act like you don't like her very much, but she seems nice.”

“She can be nice.”

“Is she usually not?”

“I think that's how she makes up for being away so much.” Skwisgaar sunk further in his bucket chair, snuggling into himself with a cookie in hand as his eyes scanned the tome across his knees. “I don't really mind, I guess. I do fine by myself when she's gone, and if she wants to suck up to me with cookies and guitars, then I'll take it.”

“Guitars?”

“She bought me that Explorer last year, for not being home on Christmas. That day doesn't mean anything to me, but like I'm going to say no, right?”

“I guess.” Something about it—perhaps the entire situation—made Toki slightly uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine taking advantage of his mother's guilt, that way.

“Besides, think about it.” Skwisgaar wiggled an eyebrow to complement his smirk. “She's leaving again next week. Think your parents would be comfortable enough for you to come over?”

“Worth a shot to ask, but don't get your hopes up. I'm sure not.”

* * *

Come Tuesday evening, Toki thanked himself for getting that project out of the way well before the due date. After hockey practice, all he wanted to do when he got home was shower, eat dinner, and go to bed. No matter what physical shape he was in before hitting the ice, the coaches ensured that he left there with aching legs and protesting lungs. Though he himself slept hard and dreamlessly, his teammates didn't reflect that the next morning in class. Acke tried more than once to fall asleep at his desk, and Roar yawned continuously. A couple others moved gingerly, marking themselves as stagnant during the off-season.

Toki sat proudly before the poster he'd organized at the library on Saturday; when Lundgren came around to check it over, a smile resulted from the teacher's impressed hum. “Good work. I like how you've incorporated art class into it.”

“Thank you.” Lundgren moving along resulted in a tongue stuck out at Skwisgaar. He'd spoken against Toki spending so long on a rendition of the Berlin Wall being knocked down as his poster's centre, outright scoffing when Toki set about colouring it.

“Presentations will start Monday,” Lundgren announced after he'd ensured everyone met the deadline. “That gives you the weekend to go over your reports and organize a speech about your posters.”

Toki didn't have much chance to touch base with Skwisgaar through recess, lunch, and the classes they went through between, but even music class to cap the school day off didn't ease new paleness. After the final bell, with a fresh load of homework weighing down Toki's back, he caught up to Skwisgaar. “What gives?”

“Huh?”

“You look either sick or nervous, I can't decide which.”

Toki wasn't blind, at the very least. Skwisgaar rolled his bottom lip through his teeth. “I don't like talking in front of the class.”

“How come? You know what you're talking about, judging from how much you told my mom about Yeltsin.”

“That's not the problem.”

“What, then?”

“I just don't like it. I forget what I'm trying to say and then I panic so I _really_ forget.”

Toki urged to kiss the dark patches developing on Skwisgaar's cheeks; they came on quicker than the chilly afternoon could inspire. “Will it help to practice?”

“I'm not sure. I don't, really.”

“Not to your mom, or a mirror?”

Skwisgaar shook his head. “I'd just rather. . .not.”

“Do you think Lundgren would cut you a break?”

“I think if I said anything, he'd think it all the more reason for me to do it, you know? If I want to get over it, I have to get used to it.”

“It's not a bad idea, but there's no point pushing yourself into a bad experience and wanting to avoid it even more.”

Rather than dawdle along with Skwisgaar on their usual route, Toki pulled him across the street at Kungensgatan. Pondering over what he'd do in such a situation could only lead one place. While it made sense to Toki, Skwisgaar slowed with apprehension when the church appeared ahead. “What're we going here for?”

“There's no one better to ask for help than my dad.” Counselling others on their problems was Aslaug's day-job, and who better to speak to about public speaking anyway, than someone that did it on grand scale at least once a week?

As expected, a woman could be heard crying behind Aslaug's closed office door. After taking a brief seat on the bench in the hallway, Toki suggested he show Skwisgaar around since she might take a while. The small number of hallways and the rooms attached weren't numerous enough to preoccupy them long, so their footsteps wound up echoing throughout the nave.

Toki halted them at the front row of pews and plopped down. “This is where my mom and I sit. I guess it's where you would sit too, if you ever came with us.”

“Honestly, I'm still a little shocked that I didn't burn up at the door.”

Even if Toki merely rolled his eyes at such a statement rather than take it seriously, it struck him odd. “Do you think that God wouldn't want you here? And I didn't think you believed in Him, anyway.”

“I don't,” Skwisgaar reasserted, hesitating before sitting beside Toki. “I don't know, I guess it's a joke. I doubt that God would want me here if he was real, because I'm not a Christian.”

“Wouldn't you be, if you knew in your heart that he's real?”

“Worshipping or believing in God wouldn't automatically make me a Christian. I could be something else, or maybe just not _this_ kind of Christian.”

“But why would you belong to something that doesn't belong _here?_ And wouldn't you rather come to church with me, rather than do something else just because?” Toki nudged him.

Skwisgaar shrugged. “I don't think you'll ever convince me to believe in something I don't, and you probably shouldn't try anyway. I have a million and one reasons why I'd never be a Christian, I've never seen any actual evidence of God, and I don't think you know enough to argue any of that with me.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Nej, ignorant.”

That didn't feel any better. Slighted, Toki pressed his lips together and wished that cherubs, stained windows, and Jesus' crucifixion still existed for Skwisgaar to see. How could he not feel a presence here? God guided Toki's life with a gentle hand, teaching him discipline and honour through his parents and even bringing him and Skwisgaar together when Aslaug first caught wind of a small town in southwest Sweden in need. Maybe, like Toki went so many years without knowing that Skwisgaar existed, Skwisgaar did the same for God.

Sniffling from the back alerted Toki that his father's office now sat vacant. The crying woman didn't look up at them as they passed where she prayed in the pews, and neither did Aslaug until Toki knocked on the door. Smiling, Aslaug set whatever he worked on aside and folded his fingers on the desktop. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you boys?”

“Skwisgaar's having a problem,” Toki said, since Skwisgaar seemed to lose function of his tongue and mind. “We have presentations to make on Monday and he doesn't like talking in front of people. Any pointers?”

“Plenty. Take a seat.”

Toki closed the office door behind him, dropping his backpack beside and then draping his jacket over the back of his chair. Following suit, Skwisgaar made himself as comfortable as possible in a place Toki assumed he'd probably rather not be. The few dinners he attended at the Wartooth home were chock full of awkward shyness, which Aslaug deemed later in a regretful tone the result of an absent father. Where, if not from a male role model, would Skwisgaar gain the confidence necessary to face the world as a man? To speak up, when slighted? To be conscious of himself, and strengthen his masculinity?

“So what do you do now, when you speak before a crowd? How do you prepare? Do you keep notes?”

Skwisgaar cleared his throat. “I just try to avoid it, honestly. If we ever have to make a speech or presentation in school, I just. . .don't do it. I'd rather take a zero than get up.”

“Have you ever spoken publicly, before? What happens?”

“I get really nervous and shaky. I can't remember anything.”

“There's no sense being ashamed about it,” Aslaug addressed Skwisgaar's mumbled responses and downcast gaze. “Public speaking is one of the most common fears that people experience. I'd say for starters that preparation is something to work on. Your current method is a self-fulfilling prophecy: you get scared that you'll mess up somehow, so you ignore the problem, which means that when the time comes to deliver your speech, you aren't organized and don't know what to say.”

“That's only part of the problem, though. It's the people listening, too. What if I mess up? What if they laugh?”

“I'll let you in on a little secret.” Aslaug leaned back in his chair. “I used to be the exact same way, when I was younger. This one time, I wrote my sermon out word-for-word on a pile of note cards, and only by the grace of God and my father was I spared after dropping the entire thing for the wind to carry away. It's not always easy to overcome, but it's possible. You have to deliver this speech on Monday, you said?”

Both boys nodded.

“So in the meantime, you have five days to prepare. What's your topic on?”

“Boris Yeltsin, still.”

“Does it make you feel any better if I remind you that no one else in the class knows as much about him? According to all of them, _you're_ the expert.”

“Not to Lundgren.”

“I don't see why he wouldn't think so. Toki told me you scored a very respectful grade on your report, and your poster looked thorough and detailed to me.”

“Well. . .thanks.” Skwisgaar squirmed under the praise. “What did you do, then?”

“I did what you're avoiding, since I didn't think it worked, either. I practiced. Have you written essays in school?”

“Only a couple.”

“You know the general layout, right? There's an introduction, three topics of discussion, and then a conclusion. Have you studied how reporting news works, yet? How you need to answer who, what, where, when, why, and how?”

Skwisgaar nodded.

“So in breaking this monster of a task down, these are the two things you're going to concern yourself with. You're going to answer all those questions at some point within a speech that's laid out like an essay. You already know your topic, so at least the research portion is done. Does it sound a little less impossible, so far?”

“A bit, ja.”

“How about I make a suggestion?” Aslaug replied. “As soon as you have your speech outlined in points, you can practice in front of Toki and I. I can give you pointers, and he'll make sure you're sticking to the project's requirements. An audience of two can be your step-up to one of twenty-two.”

Skwisgaar glanced at Toki, uncertain. “I don't know about that.”

“I promise, if you pull it off in front of us, where it's a little safer to make mistakes, you'll be much more confident come Monday.”

Proud no matter how hesitantly Skwisgaar's concession came, Toki resisted kissing his cheek again when they stood at the Storgatan and Båraleden intersection. Instead, he beamed. “If your mom doesn't want you to come over tonight to work on it, we could start on Friday? I have hockey practice again tomorrow, so. . .”

“I guess. I'm already nervous for it.”

“Don't be. It'll be fine.”

“Your dad is terrifying.”

“Maybe a little, but he really wants to see you do well. He isn't offering help just because it's his job. Besides, you know I'm more than happy to help you whenever I can.”

Skwisgaar grimaced when he tried to smile. “This is stupid, really. It's been holding me back for more than just school. I can't be in a band, if I'm scared I'll screw up.”

“So then set your sight on that. Who cares about the project? It's just a step toward you being able to show everyone how great you are at the guitar. Put it into perspective.”

“I'll try.” Skwisgaar shuffled his feet. “I'm not sure I mean this yet, but thanks for taking me to your dad. Even if I'm nervous, I do feel a little bit better about it.”

“That's the spirit. You're going to do just fine.”

 


	7. Holy Fool

Although Toki grew accustomed to finding the occasional wet patch in his underwear come morning, it'd gotten decidedly worse since moving to Nedsjön. At first Toki thought little of what his dirty laundry consisted of, but the frequency soon embarrassed him. To avoid his mother seeing it, he first took to running the offending garment under the bathroom sink. Not long after, preventative measures meant Toki wrapped a tissue around himself, then flushed it down the toilet when he got up.

Finding the evidence afterward differed from being woken up by it, which, at three o'clock in the morning, worried Toki. His dreams were a confusing mess, cycling through people he knew but most often landing on Skwisgaar. There didn't even need to be anything special about it; sometimes, Skwisgaar remained out of sight although present, and that alone would settle Toki's heartbeat in his pelvic region. Waking up to his penis all swollen seconds before becoming sticky offered a moment of unfocused clarity toward all the changes his body underwent for the past year or so. However, he didn't know enough about it and was too ashamed to ask. He didn't want his parents to look at him in disgust, and who else could he approach? This sort of thing seemed less than appropriate to discuss. It was much too private.

For that, Toki deemed it best to hide. He'd done well so far too on obscuring the random times he gained an erection throughout the day. Come Friday night, as he and his father sat on the couch opposite the chair where Skwisgaar organized his notes for his speech, another one coming on forced Toki to lean forward over his knees.

“Have you decided how to divide all the things you want to say about Yeltsin into three categories?” Aslaug asked.

“I think so. It's important to talk about how he got into politics and all that, but I found a lot of stuff on what life was like for him, before. Do you think that's something I should put in there?”

“It's context. That's very important.” Aslaug nodded. “So you have his background, his political career, and then what?”

“We learned in class the difference between communism and capitalism, so maybe I should talk about how his ideas have changed in the past few years. Since he's the president, it's important for what might happen to Russia now. Right?”

“Very important. With that all in mind then, how would you categorize everything you want to say?”

Until Skwisgaar reached the point where he'd have to practice speaking, Toki had no excuse not to work on his own. Left alone until they needed Aslaug, the two of them migrated to the kitchen table. Toki somehow found energy to put an hour toward this the night before after hockey practice, but that focus couldn't exist in the same room as Skwisgaar. While a hand held blond hair back from Skwisgaar's face and lips pressed with concentration, Toki glanced over frequently enough to make himself dizzy. With his back to the living room where his mother sat and with Aslaug out of sight in his home office, it didn't matter as much if Toki got so carried away. When finally his burning gaze compelled Skwisgaar to look up from the notes he dashed down, Toki puckered his lips. He tore a corner off his paper as quietly as he could in a daring moment, scrawled a short message, and passed it along.

Just as he hoped, warmth rose in Skwisgaar's cheeks before the note went folded and slipped into the pocket of his jeans. Toki's spine straightened when Skwisgaar repeated the process and passed along one of his own.

_'I can't stop thinking about you either'_

Intent to read it over and over again later when it was safer, Toki too stashed the note. For now, in order to avoid any suspicion from his parents, they needed to work.

In a sense, feeling this way toward a boy was superior than toward a girl in regards to his parents' strictness. They'd monitor Toki's behaviour and doings either way, but no chance in Hell existed for a girl to ever become this involved in Toki's day-to-day life. With Skwisgaar, Toki could play them off as growing best friends, and nothing more. If he continued to be as careful with his father's satisfaction, then eventually he'd be granted more liberties as to how he and Skwisgaar could be together.

“How's it going in here?” Aslaug asked as he passed through for a fresh glass of water. “Making any headway?”

“I'm just about finished my outline,” Skwisgaar replied.

Toki hadn't made it so far. “I'm still figuring out what I want to say, in what order.”

“Keep working at it,” his father encouraged. “It's nearly eight o'clock, though. Skwisgaar, what time did your mother want you home?”

“She never said. I don't think she really cares, so long as I make it back eventually.”

“Well, you two have made enough progress for one night, don't you think? Why don't you call and see if your mother wants me to drive you home, or if she'd prefer to come get you?”

“What if Skwisgaar stayed the night?” It was probably a long-shot, but Toki asked anyway. The contemplative expression his father adopted offered fresh hope. “We could start on this again right away in the morning. I'll make sure I still get my chores done, and everything.”

“I don't see a problem with that, but Skwisgaar'll need to ask permission from his mother, first,” Aslaug agreed. “Also, if you need to go home and grab things for an overnight stay, I'll swing you by.”

Serveta obliged before Skwisgaar could completely ask his question, sending Toki into a frenzy both internally and eternally. His excitement went channeled into bringing in wood for the fire and putting together a bed for Skwisgaar on his floor. Toki worried for Skwisgaar what Serveta and Aslaug crossing paths could possibly result in, but couldn't entirely concentrate on it for prospect of Skwisgaar sleeping less than three feet away from him.

It struck Toki again how boring his house probably was for someone like Skwisgaar, when his mother cross-stitched in the living room and his father would return to perusing his Bible. Music Toki only ever heard in church tapped Anja's toe and compelled her to hum along. Sighing in hopes that he himself would be enough to entertain Skwisgaar, Toki mindlessly tidied up while he waited for his father's headlights to wash over the living room wall.

Toki met Skwisgaar at the door, reading him carefully for any sign that he'd been embarrassed or put down during his absence. A smile told him otherwise, so Toki ditched his concerns in favour of leading Skwisgaar into his room. “Put your stuff down wherever. It doesn't matter.”

“Thanks.”

“I kind of realized while you were gone that we don't have very much to do around here. Do you like to play cards?”

Confirmation on Skwisgaar's part led to Toki dangling over the end of his bed as they went through their collective knowledge of games. Skwisgaar laughed when Toki walked him through one he'd claimed unfamiliarity with. “Oh, I know this one. My mom and I call it Dumb Norwegian.” 

“I wasn't going to tell you what I actually call it, but Dumb Swede.”

“Here's an idea: how about whoever wins, best two-out-of-three, gets to decide what it's actually called from now on?”

Agreeing, Toki began to deal out. The music Anja listened to shielded them from being overheard, but he still lowered his voice. “I used to call you that, you know. Inside my head, I mean. Big Dumb Swede, that's who you were.”

“When?”

“Back before we started palling around.” Toki wouldn't elaborate if he didn't have to, that he referred to the bathroom in which they shared their first, unexpected kiss. “You were such a bully.”

“A bully?” Skwisgaar repeated, baffled. “You think that's what I was doing?”

“What else would kicking my chair, poking me, and giving me dirty looks mean?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious. Kind of like when you hit me with the handball. Isn't that why you let me—?”

“Shh,” Toki reminded him with a jerk of his head toward the living room. “I don't know what you're talking about. I got you in the face in gym class because you were making me mad.”

“So then what about in the bathroom?”

“Revenge?”

Skwisgaar stared at Toki. “Huh. I guess I'm lucky you didn't think I was a weirdo and tell everyone.  _Really_ lucky.” 

“Honestly, I _did_ think it was a little weird. I washed my mouth out afterward,” Toki admitted with a smile. “But I wanted to do it again right away, so what does that say?”

“I would've been screwed, if you didn't.”

“I wouldn't have told anyone, anyway. It's not my business.”

“Even though I was being so mean? Or because you're religious?”

“What's either of those got to do with it? You don't deserve to be teased no matter what you were doing to me. And I think that being religious makes me more accepting.”

“You'd be one of few, then.”

They went through a few turns of their card game, during which Toki remembered what his father had said about Skwisgaar. Should a religious man say that a woman deserved to be deprived of her child, because she'd made bad decisions in life? Toki could see his point though, that Skwisgaar would probably be happier if he had a different mom and an actual dad to speak of. Trying to imagine his own life without one was very strange, since his father was such an influential force in the basic fabric of his days. Still, to say that a child should be ripped from their mother's hands? It didn't leave Toki with a very good taste in his mouth then, and that returned to full force now.

“No matter what could've happened,” Toki brought them back to the initial topic, “I'm glad you did what you did. I really do like you a lot. Is it worth worrying, what might've happened if I wasn't into it?” 

“I guess not.” Skwisgaar sighed. “I can't help but think how stupid I was, though.”

“That'll go away. I think you can guess what I want to do, as soon as my parents fall asleep.”

The anticipation for it deprived Toki of fatigue, as he waited first for his mother to turn off the music she listened to and pop in to bid them both good night. Aslaug continued to rustle papers in his office, until he too passed with reminder not to stay up too late. Toki listened through his and Skwisgaar's whispered conversations for when his parents ceased rolling around, then suggested they too go about their pre-sleep routines. Paranoia that perhaps his mother and father simply laid awake or slept lightly forced Toki to tiptoe into the bathroom to brush his teeth and preemptively place some tissues in his underwear.

Returning to his bedroom, he found that Skwisgaar had just changed into his pyjama pants, exposing his back. His shoulder blades and untoned muscles shifted beneath smooth, pale skin as he put his sweater and jeans into his bag; the bedroom door quietly clicking shut brought his gaze back over his shoulder. “It gets cold in here if you close that, ja?”

“I'll open it again in a minute.”

It suddenly struck Toki that he stood half-naked in his room with a boy of equal undress, whom he considered very differently than the other kids he saw like this in the hockey change room. His interest toward kissing other parts of Skwisgaar's body grew, although he was too scared to do it. Instead, he ran his fingertips lightly over Skwisgaar's upper arms, following where translucent skin displayed blue veins. “We finally have more than just three seconds to sneak this in.”

“Do we?” Skwisgaar asked. “Your parents are right on the other side of the wall.”

“So we'll be quiet then.” Toki leaned up, trying to uphold that statement right through to when their lips parted. It wasn't as easy as he hoped, and he felt the kiss lost something. “I wish you could sleep in my bed with me.”

“Who says we can't lay together for a little while?”

Pitch-black darkness and working with a twin bed posed a challenge, but minimal creaking and two-sided shushes eased them together under the quilt. Toki liked this much better, for the freedom to press their torsos together and run his fingers through Skwisgaar's thick hair. Breath and combined body heat restored all that was lost by cutting off the wood stove's influence. Really, Toki wouldn't care if they could  _see_ their breath, so long as he had this. 

“We're lucky, aren't we?” Toki whispered aloud as the day's older thoughts returned. “If you were a girl, I bet you wouldn't even be allowed in my house.”

“I think if they thought something was going on, they wouldn't have let me stay the night.”

“I would've heard about it, too. That's not something they'd let go.” Toki ran his thumb over the hollow in Skwisgaar's cheek, using its proximity to guide their lips back together. Lack of noise from his parents' room made Toki braver, leading to him feeling out the minute curve in Skwisgaar's waistline. While he managed to keep any and all extraneous noise obsolete, something warm, wet, and slippery sliding past his lips incited a groan loud enough to be embarrassed about even if they weren't trying to keep this to themselves.

He pulled back, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I don't know where that came from.”

Skwisgaar chuckled. “You've never kissed with tongues, before?”

“No.” Toki pouted, cheeks warm. “You're the only one I've _ever_ kissed. Don't laugh at me.” 

“I just didn't expect you to react that way. You want to try again?”

Now that Toki expected it, he curtailed his reaction to a certain extent. A pounding heart and needy lungs kept him for the most part from shoving his tongue as far into Skwisgaar's mouth as was possible; excessive enthusiasm had Skwisgaar pushing his chest in reminder to calm down more than once. Lips cut Toki off every time he attempted to apologize, encouraging him toward favourable intensity. Fingers curling in his hair, a body arching into him, and teeth nibbling his lips dropped a weight between his legs. The last shred of self-control Toki possessed pushed him to turn his hips away from Skwisgaar.

“Maybe. . .” Toki whispered when they broke apart for their next breath. “Maybe you should go lay on your own bed.”

“Do you think they heard?”

“No, but they might.”

Despite his issue, Toki regretted letting Skwisgaar go. After Skwisgaar situated on the foam mattress allotted to him, Toki dangled his hand over the bed's edge as open invitation to hold. He did his best to ignore the aching throb in his underwear, as well as that the tissue he'd placed in there already gained a taste of liquid.

* * *

“All right everyone, settle down. Who wants to go next? Any volunteers?”

The number of presentations come Monday slowly whittled down. Toki did himself a favour and volunteered to go first; he'd hoped that showing Skwisgaar how small of a deal it actually was would help, and the Saturday spent with Aslaug truly seemed to help him overcome a good chunk of his nerves. However, he was still one of the last presenters to be called upon.

_'You did great, one of the best for sure :)'_

Toki set the note on Skwisgaar's desk in passing during math to sharpen his pencil, smiling when he passed again to see pride and relief cohabiting in Skwisgaar's features. After school, the self-control necessary for Toki to not relive Friday night over and over again in his daydreams came in handy as he fought the urge for a congratulatory hug. “How's it feel?”

“Better, now that it's over.” Skwisgaar heaved a sigh. “I don't know what I would've done, without your help.”

“Anytime you need it, you only have to ask.”

Rather than go straight home, they headed again for the church. Aslaug expressed keenness at breakfast to hear how their presentations went, so it should reasonably be all right to postpone bringing in wood. Unlike their last journey here, no queue existed.

Aslaug cut to the chase as soon as they announced their presence. “Well? How'd it go?”

“Good. I mean, I guess it did.” Skwisgaar glanced at Toki, hands shoved into his pockets. “I did what we practiced, and I stayed inside the time limit.”

Toki gave him a sign anytime he sped up too much, compelling Skwisgaar to take a deep breath, collect himself, and then press on at the rate he'd practiced in front of Aslaug over the weekend. “He did better than a lot of the other kids. You could tell most of them weren't ready.”

“That's too bad for them, I suppose.” Aslaug leaned back in his chair, sizing up both boys. “Toki, would you give Skwisgaar and I some privacy? I'd like to speak to him alone for a moment.”

“Uh. . .sure.” Nerves sprung up, but Toki had little choice but to back out of the office and close the door behind him. Unable to sit in the hallway, just in case this resulted in something negative pertaining to Friday night, Toki drifted toward the nave. A few other people praying held him at the back, silently begging God that this wasn't what he suspected. Could his father keep so calm though, if he knew his son was kissing boys under his roof?

When Skwisgaar found Toki, confusion furrowed his brow. He shook his head when Toki cast him a questioning look, then hummed when they headed back down the street toward their usual parting place. “I'm coming over to your house on Wednesday.”

“What for?” Toki's heart leapt, but nerves still existed.

“I guess while I was getting my things together on Friday night at home, your dad got talking to my mom. She mentioned that she was going away soon, so your dad talked to her again today to find out what exactly that meant. So. . .long story short, while she's gone, I'm going to be staying at your house.”

“Really? That's what my dad said?”

“He insisted, said someone my age shouldn't stay home all by myself.” Skwisgaar shrugged. “Not that I haven't before, for longer, but I won't argue. I feel bad though, that your parents are going to feed me and all that. I hope mom's going to give them a little bit of money, and I told your dad that I don't mind doing chores when I stay over.”

“Cool.” Toki bumped their shoulders. “You can help _me_.” 

“That's what your dad said.”

* * *

“. . .As it reads in Habakkuk 1:5, 'look at the nations and watch—and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.' Consider current events in the world, how this shadow looming over Europe for decades has crumbled thanks to its godless foundation. A nation without God is a nation doomed, for He will see to it. We shall soon see, if relinquishing the shackles of atheism will free the Russian people from their misguided government. . .”

The excitement of having inspired his father's sermon was overshadowed by whom accompanied Toki to church that Sunday. Serveta wasn't due home until the next evening, which left Skwisgaar little choice but to tag along. Toki never saw him dressed in anything other than the worn jeans and thin sweaters his mother provided; preparation for this day meant Anja dropped Toki off at hockey practice early on Thursday evening so that she could take Skwisgaar to the shops. Sunday clothes did him good, although Skwisgaar tugged often at his tie and shirt cuffs. Anja attempted to fix his hair before they left home, but there wasn't much to do when the blond strands rejected a wet comb. His bangs escaped first, setting off a chain reaction. 

“Well, what did you think?” Toki asked after the blessing, when the pews closest to the back filed out. “Not so bad?”

“I guess not.” Ritual took precedence over content for Skwisgaar, it seemed. He watched everyone else closely to ascertain when he was needed to sit or stand, fumbling through anything requiring his participation. Toki didn't help; while Skwisgaar relied on him to show the ropes, he was distracted by Skwisgaar's presence. “Kind of. . .”

“Hm?”

“Eh, probably not something I should say here.”

Letting it go in hopes not to revisit later, Toki filed out behind Skwisgaar and Anja. Before he could reach the back, where he craned to see what kind of hot drinks were offered today, he earned a poke to the shoulder.

“Gonna come out and play a game with us?” Espen's thick, dark hair already curled against his forehead; Roar's ash blond strands somehow remained plastered to his head, from where his mother slicked it back. “Hugo's mom said he's sick, so we're not gonna have a goalie. We need you.”

“Um. . .” Toki sized Skwisgaar's comfort level up, to see if he'd be fine left alone for a little while. He relied on Sundays just as much as recess and lunch at school to exhaust the competitive fire burning away inside him. Thank goodness, the Nedsjön Vargarna U14 team would play their first game in Hindås on Saturday. “Sure.”

Skwisgaar seemed content to latch himself onto Anja's side as Toki left with his other friends. Toki felt bad to ditch him, although wished he'd follow in order to watch.

While elongating legs and arms made Toki clumsy at inopportune moments, he didn't have it as bad today as the others. Karl face-planted onto the concrete to raucous laughter, while Toki maintained control of his feet well enough to stay upright even when sliding on unexpected patches of ice. Natural inclination to hang around the net kept him from scoring many goals, though he would've given it a good shot if he had someone he needed to impress.

“What do you guys think of Ella?” Acke asked when they took a breather. “I'm thinking of asking her to go with me.”

“She probably won't,” Karl broke with an apologetic shrug. “She likes Leo, Signe said.”

“What the heck does Signe know?”

“They've been hanging out a lot this year. She said that Ella won't stop talking about him.”

“Ugggh, just shut up.” Acke pouted. “That sucks. She keeps passing me notes in class, I thought she _wanted_ me to ask her.” 

“Doesn't hurt, right? Or do you think she'll get weird about it?”

“I don't know. . .”

Toki remained quiet through the talk about girls, more than ready to get back to the game before his buddies could question him about who caught his attention. Admitting Skwisgaar would probably amount to social suicide. Toki wasn't stupid; him liking boys wouldn't go over well when they all needed to undress in front of him at least twice a week. It was just better to keep quiet about it, although Toki could lie if need be.

Their parents plucked them out of the game one by one as they headed home, until too few were left to carry on. Migrating back inside, Toki caught up to where his father had crossed paths with Anja and Skwisgaar.

“I'm glad to see you aren't playing in your Sunday clothes,” Aslaug observed. “Where are they?”

“Mama gave me the car keys, to put them away.”

Sitting in the backseat with Skwisgaar felt weird, coming home from church. He still urged to spend the rest of the afternoon together, maybe sneak off to the woodshed where they'd discovered a place unseeable from the kitchen window or any of the neighbours' houses, but nerves accompanied it. Palling around with a group of boys that behaved in the way expected of them made Toki feel bad about the intensity he regarded Skwisgaar with and how that manifested in affection. What could he do though, if these feelings occurred for a boy? What did it matter? Maybe someday it would change, and a girl would catch his fancy in even stronger fashion. Until then, he should enjoy what was in front of him.

It wasn't as easy as saying that, though. Hiding something so monumental from his parents came with a thrill, but Toki had someone bigger to consider. As result, through working with Skwisgaar on their chores, homework, and then helping his mother with dinner, Toki avoided touching him. The want still existed, of course, but Toki did his best to ignore it.

While sitting in his room after drying the dishes, Toki was joined by Skwisgaar. He sat on the floor before Toki's bed, watching his fingers fret through the latest hymn he attempted to master. “What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“You've been weird all day.”

Toki considered trying to talk about it, but wound up shrugging. He had no idea what to say.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don't know, that's why I'm asking. Is it because I didn't like church as much as you thought I would?”

That was far enough from Toki's mind to necessitate a moment of thought. Ditching him to play hockey and then being strange when they got home was weird, he supposed. “You can like whatever you want, or think whatever you want about it. It doesn't matter to me.”

“So then why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

Skwisgaar sat quietly on the floor, waiting for Toki to stop staring at his instrument and give him an answer. Eventually, he sighed and stood. “Whatever.”

The only thing that could make Toki feel worse was Skwisgaar's dejected tone. He didn't ask for this, and he deserved to know about the doubt nagging at Toki's gut. However, how did Toki break it gently to him, if at all? To only make things more difficult, Toki wished more than anything to curl up with Skwisgaar in his bed and relish the affection he'd accustomed to each night before they fell asleep. The tension thickening as they took turns getting ready for bed drove Toki out of his mind. He couldn't concentrate on reading when Skwisgaar mirrored his discontent a few feet away. Toki could swear, if he ever chanced a glance at his long-faced friend, that his eyes failed to scan the words. Not once did Skwisgaar turn the page before dogearing it to set aside for tomorrow. Putting his back between them offered Toki greater opportunity to contemplate the small network of freckles and faint moles he'd worked toward memorizing. 

Toki laid awake, equally as guilt-ridden, when he'd turned the lamp off. Not long later, he closed his eyes intent to steel himself. “Skwisgaar, are you awake?”

A short grunt came as response.

“Will you come over here?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to say I'm sorry.”

Skwisgaar hesitated before speaking again. “You won't even tell me what happened.”

“I'm still not really sure, and I feel really bad about it.”

“So then what're you saying sorry for?”

“For making _you_ feel bad.” 

“Whatever.”

“Don't just say that. Come here.”

Rather than crawl into Toki's bed, Skwisgaar kneeled beside out of reach. Toki sighed quietly, propping up on an elbow. “All my friends like girls.”

“Ja, so do mine.”

“And we're supposed to marry girls when we get older, right?”

“Probably. Why're you thinking that far ahead?”

“I don't know. I don't want to.” Toki pressed his lips together. “I like this, but I'm scared.”

Any minute change in Skwisgaar's demeanour couldn't be read in his shadowed face; instead, Toki needed to rely on tone. “I wondered when you'd say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Toki. Being Christian and gay don't exactly go together.”

“I'm not gay,” Toki immediately refuted. “Don't say that.”

“The things we've been doing are pretty gay.”

“Shut up.”

“So you like making out with me even if I'm a boy, but you're not gay?”

“I don't know.” The anxiety that circulated throughout Toki ever since church transformed into fear. Being gay was a horrible prospect. If it was only a choice that got him this deep with Skwisgaar, then why couldn't he remember at what point he made that? Was it when Skwisgaar kissed him?

“You're done with it, then?”

“I don't know,” Toki repeated. He hated the idea that he did wrong by God, but he couldn't ignore that sometimes the love he felt in his heart was stronger for Skwisgaar. “I don't know what to do.”

“I don't know what to tell you, either.”

Toki wished he could just ignore it. Embarrassment trickled in as his eyes grew heavy, for he'd never felt so damned, not expressly by God but completely in general. “It's no good, either way. I don't want to have to pick sides.”

“I can't compete with God, when that's important to you.” Skwisgaar shrugged in the darkness. “Like I said, I figured this would happen. Doesn't make me happy, but. . .I don't know what to say. You're going to decide what you're going to decide.”

Toki's vision blurred as Skwisgaar retreated to his bed. He hardly had time to pull his blanket up over his shoulders before Toki slipped out from under his comforter and curled up to Skwisgaar's back; terrible as he felt under God's watchful gaze, He wasn't here to hold Toki through crippling guilt. “I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I don't like you.”

“That doesn't really matter. Anyone but me's going to tell you to work through it. And pray, or something.”

“Don't tell me what everyone else is going to say. What do _you_ say?” 

“I don't think you can help it, so there's no point getting all messed up over it.”

“Maybe He's testing me.”

“It's kind of a stupid way to test someone.”

“You can't question God, though. He has reasons that we can't understand.”

“Did God himself tell you that, or someone speaking for him?”

“God can't tell me anything directly. We don't belong to the same world. I have to trust the Bible, I have to trust the people _He_ trusts to speak.” 

“Can't you trust someone that says you aren't going to Hell for who or what you like?”

“There isn't anybody.” Miserable, Toki rested his forehead against Skwisgaar's upper back. “Nobody says that. It isn't natural. God made one woman for each man, and one man for each woman. It's what He intended.”

Skwisgaar sighed. “Look, Toki. . .there's only so much I can help you with this. I'm okay with myself, but I can't tell you what I believe because it's very different from what  _you_ do. I hope you figure this out, whatever it means for us.” 

“You don't believe in Him.”

“No, but I think if God _did_ exist, He'd want you happy. Look at you, right now. Are you happy?”

Toki shook his head, fending off a sniffle.

“What would make you happy?”

“For this to be okay.” Though he hesitated at first, Toki wrapped an arm around Skwisgaar's middle. “I want Him to accept this as my truth. I mean. . .if God is testing me, then what exactly _is_ the test? But. . .everything I know, everything that's in the Bible. . .I'm dishonouring my parents already, by sneaking around with you. What if I go to Hell?” 

“No offence, but sounds like you're kind of already there.” Skwisgaar looked at Toki over his shoulder. “And by the way. . .there _are_ churches that say it's okay. Just not here.” 

“How can you know that?”

“Because I'm allowed to see things outside of this tiny part of the world.”

“But what if I'm _not_ gay? What if I'm just having gay thoughts?”

“That's why people experiment: to find out if they're just curious, or if this is who they are.”

Grabbing at slippery ends of the rope resulted in a long, thin sigh. Toki never felt more alive, nor more like himself, when all of these bad thoughts stayed away and he laid with Skwisgaar in his bed. That felt like home, more than walking in the front door after school everyday did. “I'm sorry.”

“What for, now?”

“That I'm like this. I like you, and I want to be _able_ to like you. I'm so scared to screw up.” 

“I don't see it like you are. You're doing what you want, and this isn't hurting anybody.”

“Nobody but ourselves, if we're wrong.”

“I'm willing to take the risk.”

“I guess I already have.” Toki ignored the nagging thought that it was better to stop, now that his faith had caught up to his doings. “I don't want to go to Hell for this. You're sure that people somewhere else say it's okay?”

Skwisgaar nodded. “Maybe your test is being who you are, no matter what you've been told. I mean. . .having a dad for a pastor is like a double whammy.”

“What about the fifth commandment?”

“Honouring thy mother and father, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Since when does honouring mean you have to do everything they tell you to?”

“I have to obey.”

Skwisgaar fell quiet again for a while. “You have an answer for everything I say, because that's what you've been told. If this is so hard for you, then let me make it easy: go away. Let me sleep, so that I'm not junk for school tomorrow.”

That hurt more than anything Toki could remind himself of from past teachings. Bottom lip trembling, he didn't trust himself to speak a response. He wished that Skwisgaar wasn't here, so that he could properly mourn whatever light in his life he stood to lose in all this.

 


	8. Under Pressure

Inability to sleep had Toki awake an hour or so before he needed to rise for school. Rather than attempt to maintain a clear mind since Skwisgaar shooed him back to his bed, Toki finally gave into it. He propped up his pillow so that he could better see the boy sleeping on his floor, expression slack and peaceful spare the ghost of disappointment and annoyance. Toki fought every impulse to slip back onto the floor and map out Skwisgaar's face with his fingertips. Even better, his lips. For the moment, he didn't care how sinful this was.

He caught himself, though. These kind of thoughts might not be the death of him, but they'd certainly set his reservation for Hell.

Maybe Toki couldn't help how he felt, but he could certainly control his actions. For that, he was quiet as he got ready for school. He washed up and ate without speaking a word to Skwisgaar. On their walk down the street, although they went out the door at the same time, Skwisgaar marched on ahead.

The dark kept Toki from staring at Skwisgaar's butt, but imagining it made no discernable difference. In class, Toki tried as best he could to pay attention to Lundgren. Every time his gaze drifted toward Skwisgaar's slouched form, he'd snap himself back to the blackboard. Glimpsing Skwisgaar's long face during lunch break ensured he remained on Toki's mind all through the afternoon.

Toki couldn't put off catching up to Skwisgaar when class let out for the day. “Hej.”

“Mm.”

“You're not going to talk to me, now?” Toki asked when Skwisgaar turned his face away.

“I don't know what to say.”

“I do. I want to say sorry.”

“There are some things that 'sorry' doesn't fix.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should've known better, doing this with someone religious,” Skwisgaar settled on. “'God Hates Fags'. That's the slogan. I can't even believe you let it go _this_ far. Maybe when I kissed you in the bathroom, you should've just told everyone that's what I was, and got it over with.” 

“Quit being so dramatic.” Toki's stomach sunk anyway, at the idea that God watched him right now, walking down the street with Skwisgaar. He could probably read his thoughts too, that Toki was inches away from saying to hell with chores and following Skwisgaar home so that they could pick up right where they left off. “There's still an option, here.”

“Oh?”

“We can go straight. If we're tempting each other, then who better to keep us in check? We'll be friends. We'll help each other not be this way.”

A bark of laughter escaped Skwisgaar so violently he needed to stop walking. Hot in the cheeks, Toki waited for him to explain just what was so funny.

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You think it works like that?”

“It could. I mean, it's what people do. They ignore these feelings and do right by God. I'd rather be happy for eternity, than for this short time I'm on Earth,” Toki tersely stated.

“You go ahead and have fun doing that. You know what I'm going to do?” Skwisgaar cupped his hands over Toki's ears to whisper as some of their classmates neared. “I'm going to go home and touch myself while I think about you. Have fun being miserable all by yourself, if that's what you're going to choose. Aren't you going to be sad, to miss out?”

Leaving Toki with gaped lips, Skwisgaar smirked with a wink. However sinful to kill potential children by projecting them onto a palm rather than into a future-wife's womb, Toki grew heavy at the idea of Skwisgaar doing that. He feared that any further reaction would wet his underwear where it now tented underneath his jacket. It was bad enough, to head home like this.

Could he risk his mother seeing it, if it didn't go away by the time he got there? What could Toki even do about it? On a whim, he altered trajectory for the church. No way would his parents be mad at him for putting off chores for prayer.

His nose nearly collided with the pew when he rested his chin over folded hands. Fear of being overheard hesitated Toki; should he really be here, right now? Where else could he be sure that God heard him, though? He needed some serious guidance, and no way  _ever_ could he go to his father about it. However helpful he might be, the shame made it impossible. Toki didn't want to be one of these people, that struggled so hard against themselves for life. Maybe, if he asked nicely enough, God could just take this away. 

“God. . .” he whispered. Before he could say anything else, hot and silent tears spilled down his cheeks. Needing to hurry in case his father happened to witness this, Toki gathered his wits. “I love you. Please help me, because I want my life to be better. Why, God? I can't even talk to anyone about it. My parents will be so disappointed. Can't it be anything else? Why did you make me this way?”

Only making things worse, Toki couldn't feel anyone else in the church with him, except for others searching for the same deity. He waited a while, since maybe he just shouldn't be so impatient, but with a low chin he later departed. Did God abandon him? Decide to merely watch and see what decision he made when left to his own device? If not for Serveta being home, Toki would probably bypass the route to his own home again and head off east. Toki sent another quick prayer upward, as apology for the temptation. Although resisting Skwisgaar was an accomplishment that he should be proud of, Toki couldn't summon any sentiment resembling that in the least.

He went about his chores and dinner, explaining a good load of homework to be why he seemed so solemn. His back went between the rest of the house and himself when it came time to whittle away at that, but a strange anxiety kept his pencil sluggish. How strange that four months ago, he hadn't even known who Skwisgaar was. Something woke up inside Toki whenever he was around, and that didn't simply return to hibernation when he went away. Toki instead felt as dead as the snow-ridden land outside his bedroom window.

Come bedtime, he laid on his side and stared at where Skwisgaar had slept the night before. What went through his mind right now? Was he as displeased about this? Did he mope around his house? What would he say, if Toki either snuck a phone call in or trudged through the snow to toss pebbles at his bedroom window?

Never before did Toki need someone objective to talk to. He considered going to Lundgren, but could he trust him not to tell his parents? It only grew worse come Saturday night, when he prepared for an early bedtime so as to be rested for church.

“. . .Can you believe this, Anja?” Aslaug could hardly keep the glee out of his voice, in the living room. “I only wish it happened earlier in the week, so that I hadn't already prepared my sermon. I'm definitely going to save this for next Sunday.”

“What's Papa talking about?” Toki asked his mother later, after brushing his teeth.

“Some musician,” Anja replied with a smile. “He kept the company of men, and it's been confirmed that he contracted the disease God uses to punish homosexuals.”

Toki's stomach sank to somewhere near his knees. “What's that?”

“AIDS.”

Right. “What do you mean by keeping the company of men? Do they just get the disease because they have homosexual thoughts?”

“Oh, no, they need to act on it, Toki. Homosexual thoughts won't do someone wrong by God. It's what they do with them that matters. Homosexuals have to. . .lay with another man,” Anja chose her words carefully. “That's how it happens.”

“Okay.” Numb, Toki floated to his room. Underneath his covers, where a ghost of Skwisgaar still existed by way of scent, Toki bit down on his knuckles as terror-inspired tears wet his pillow. He'd laid with Skwisgaar. More than that, they'd kissed and touched each other. Was that how it happened? Is that why he couldn't find God at the moment? Did He already turn his back?

Toki pretended to already be asleep when his mom poked her head in to say goodnight, and wondered how long he had until he needed to tell them. What if he started wasting away before their eyes, with gaunt cheeks and stick-like legs? It ensured he couldn't catch a wink of sleep, and his anxiety followed him to church the following morning. His tongue tied when his mother asked in the pews if he was all right, then again when she found him halfway through the sermon emptying the contents of his stomach in the men's bathroom.

“Are you sick?”

“I think so,” Toki confirmed when he emerged, shaky and pale. How, he couldn't quite elaborate yet. He said he could make it through the rest of church without going to sit out in the car, so every moment sitting before his father eased him closer to what Hell probably felt like. How much more of this could he handle? Was this what the rest of his life would be like? Did God remind him what he'd face post-mortem, when he either floated upward or fell down?

One week of it was horrible enough, let alone a lifetime. His parents' belief he'd contracted a flu put him in bed with a doting mother passing through occasionally to check on him. Meanwhile, Toki considered his options. If his entire life was going to be like this, he couldn't handle it. He'd much rather not exist. His father spoke about suicide though, and Toki didn't want to risk a one-way road right to Hell for anything he might do. How even  _would_ he go about that? 

Seriously considering it only made Toki feel worse. He didn't really want to die.

* * *

 

Anja kept Toki home from school Monday, since his symptoms refused to relent. Toki feared that the AIDS already seeped in, thanks to how terrible he looked in the mirror, but after so much fear and doubt, enough prayer came with a strange blanket of calm come the evening. Did God finally hear, and offer his forgiveness? Could he take the disease away just as easily as he doled it out, or did Toki merely accept his fate? He should, because he did the crime and earned the punishment.

News came home with Aslaug from work that the musician in question had died sometime on Sunday evening. Toki blocked his words out, simply unable to think about it anymore. God made his point. He'd never act on homosexual impulses again.

In bed, he clasped his fingers together. “Please forgive my ignorance, Lord. I was led astray. I didn't know any better, but I stopped as soon as I realized. However I feel about Skwisgaar, I won't act on that anymore. I'll be a good boy, even if you've given me this horrible disease. I love you.”

Toki thought he could escape while at school, but of course Freddie Mercury's death was just as hot a topic on the school grounds as in his house. Skwisgaar and his friends discussed it along with the music he made in the small crook where the instruments were kept, during lunch hour; Toki overheard them while getting a drink of water during a break in the hockey game he played with the other guys.

When Toki made to return outside, the discussion had quietened and Skwisgaar called out his name. Toki masked the new wave of stress that came with being approached. He'd somehow managed not to look at Skwisgaar all day, but now that they stood toe-to-toe it took every vestige of effort he possessed not to pull him into the bathroom and kiss him until his lips numbed.

“Hej,” he responded to similar greeting.

Skwisgaar rubbed his upper arm, crossing them shortly after. He glanced around to make sure they were truly alone before lowering his voice. “You weren't here yesterday.”

“I was sick.” Skwisgaar probably was too, but he looked much more healthy than the face looking Toki back in the mirror that morning. “Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure you're all right.”

“Oh.”

“That doesn't freak you out, does it?”

Toki shrugged. Lack of follow-up on either of their parts made them awkward, and Toki averted his gaze until Skwisgaar departed. It felt like ripping a bandage off, leaving Toki raw. He returned to his game, with much less enthusiasm. All the goals that slipped past him into his team's net went silently scrutinized, although his friends forgot about it as they returned to class for afternoon lessons.

Gym gave Toki the chance to make rid of any remaining energy, just in time for art. He brought the wax apple out from his desk that he'd chosen the previous week as his object to sketch. With not much left to do, Toki spent a quarter of the class finishing up, then another quarter tidying it in order to hand in. Bringing it up to Lundgren's desk allowed the first smile he'd experienced in long enough for his cheek muscles to feel strange.

“I like how you use white to show where the light hit the apple. Your illustration looks a lot cleaner, for that,” Lundgren complimented him. “If you'd like, use the rest of classtime for silent reading or homework.”

“Thanks.” Lack of concentration on top of missing Monday's lessons left Toki with a considerable amount of catch-up to do. Before he could turn to consult the package put together for him, Lundgren spoke his name again.

“Would you hang back when the bell rings?” Lundgren requested. “I'd like to speak with you about something.”

Toki nodded, relieved that the class bustled too much to overhear. Was he in trouble? Fear for it put one worry too many on his shoulders. While he tried to decipher yesterday's math problems, his eyes fell out of focus. Floating away somewhere else within his mind was easier than facing everything life suddenly shoved onto his plate. What would it take, to go back to homeschooling in Norway? Society at large, while coveted for so long, no longer appealed to him. The last iota of excitement that manifested when his father announced the old house would go up for sale officially dissipated. 

When the bell rang, Toki dawdled. A couple kids took forever to put their art supplies away, but when they left the classroom Lundgren got up to close the door behind them. Toki's heart fell into his stomach when gestured up to the biggest desk in the room, doubling back to his own when instructed to bring his chair.

Lundgren sat pulled away from his desk, legs crossed and fingers entwined atop his knee. Although Toki couldn't meet his gaze, he braced himself for something cold and cruel to suddenly manifest from soft, questioning brown eyes. The longer silence held, the more uncomfortable Toki felt. In his peripheral vision, Lundgren scratched idly at his moustache.

“Is everything okay?”

Toki rubbed his hands together, gaze skating back and forth on the floor. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. Was he that obvious?

“Are you sure?” Lundgren gently pressed. “You've been very withdrawn, this last week. It seems to take more effort than usual, even when playing with your friends during lunch and recess. You missed school yesterday.”

Toki froze, unsure how to respond when his strange behaviour was called upon. While he'd considered confiding in Lundgren, doing so made the entire situation far too real for him to deal with right now.

“Is it something you're afraid I'll tell your parents?”

Hesitantly, Toki nodded. Even acknowledging that Lundgren's perceptions had picked up on the burden currently weighing his shoulders birthed anxiety. Fighting the lump in his throat, he whispered, “They can't ever know.”

“Then I won't tell them. If you wish for it to stay a secret, then so it will.”

“You're not just saying that?” Toki never saw Lundgren at church, so while the possibility existed that he simply attended elsewhere, an isolated childhood conditioned him not to trust anyone outside his own congregation.

“I'm a teacher, Toki. It's not my place to judge you or turn you over to a higher power. Of course, if you're hitting other kids on the playground it becomes my business, but inner turmoil is not.”

“I'm really scared,” Toki hesitantly admitted. The notion that he should save this conversation for either God or his father screamed at him, but those avenues were either exhausted or impossible. “I've done something really bad, and something bad's growing inside me, because of it.”

“What is?”

“That—that disease.” Unable to help himself, Toki sniffled. He refused to cry in front of his teacher, though. “God's punishing me.”

“AIDS?” Lundgren frowned. “What on Earth would make you think you contracted that? You're far too young for what you think God would punish you for, you don't live anywhere where it's considered an epidemic, and you aren't a heroin addict. Do you have hemophilia?”

Toki didn't even know what that was. “I've laid with a boy.”

The silence Toki interpretted as judgement ended with a thoughtful hum. “Forgive my assumption if it's wrong, but is that why you haven't been speaking to Skwisgaar?”

The blush that burned Toki's cheeks was probably indication enough.

“Toki, I need to ask: do you understand how diseases like AIDS are transferred?”

“'Transferred'?”

“Ja, like think of the flu. You don't just _get_ it, right? You show symptoms because you come into contact with someone that has it. I'm not sure if you were taught that before this year, but that's how germs work. There are different ways for illnesses to spread, and for AIDS, body fluids—whether blood or semen—need to mix. Even if you and Skwisgaar did something that made that happen, he would need to have AIDS, to start. . .which he doesn't. I won't even get into how much time and testing it takes in order for someone to be properly diagnosed.”

“But what about God?” Toki glanced up.

“There's an alternative view about AIDS to what religious people believe about it. Scientists have found that it needs to be transferred. There's not one single case of AIDS that appeared from nowhere. While it seems that only homosexual men contract the disease, that's simply not true. Straight people—both men and women—have been diagnosed. Children can be born with it if their mothers have it, and this is happening in a lot in places like Africa and Haiti right now. If you do drugs, you can get it from sharing needles. If you have hemophilia, a condition that keeps cuts and the like from scabbing, you're left vulnerable.

“I understand that you come from a very religious family, but I hope for your own well-being that you don't get yourself needlessly worked up over something like that.”

Lundgren's level demeanour calmed Toki. In that sense, he could see the narrowed possibility that he'd received such a terrible burden. One thing remained uncertain, though.

“I don't know what to do about Skwisgaar,” he mumbled, toeing the floor.

“Are you not interested, and don't know how to tell him that?”

“That's not it at all.”

“Objectively, how you feel toward Skwisgaar is no different than if you felt that way toward a girl. That may be hard for you to believe, given how you've been raised, but I hope you might feel better hearing _that_ , for once.” 

It hadn't  _seemed_ different to start, which was what left Toki ignorant for so long. His first instinct when Lundgren said that was to spurn him, since he obviously didn't believe in the right God. Before he could say anything about it, Lundgren continued speaking.

“It's difficult, because Nedsjön is too small for any bit of that community to openly exist. The churches maintain the taboo nature of anything other than Adam and Eve, so even non-religious people simply accept that its bad. There are churches elsewhere though, that say it's okay. It all depends on how the Bible is read. Rather than a vengeful God, these others see a God that made no mistakes and loves all His children no matter what.”

Coming to Nedsjön indeed opened Toki's eyes that not everyone believed the same things. Even the Christians divided themselves to four different churches come Sunday morning. Pondering that carefully, Toki chewed on his bottom lip. “What if they're wrong, though? What if my father is right, about God and what He stands for?”

“When it comes to AIDS, if he indeed believes that God uses it to punish people, there's a lot of evidence to the contrary.”

“But what if He only makes it _look_ like it goes person to person, the way you said?”

“Then homosexuals would get the disease even when they avoided mixing their body fluids, wouldn't they?”

“I still don't understand what that means,” Toki backtracked to that part of the conversation, thinking about how he could taste Skwisgaar after they ever used their tongues while kissing.

“We haven't had that discussion in class yet, and I'm honestly expecting your parents not to sign the permission slip that comes before it, but that's what happens during sex. It's how girls become pregnant or how diseases are passed around.”

Toki's cheeks burned again, and he stuttered. “We didn't do that, I don't think. We laid together.”

“ _Literally_ laid together? Like, beside each other?”

Toki nodded, unsure if he should be embarrassed or relieved that Lundgren smiled.

“Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Laying beside someone is no way to catch a sexually-transmitted disease.”

“Even if we were. . .?” Toki trailed off, unable to admit to all the make out sessions he engaged in with Skwisgaar.

“Unless your semen wound up inside his body between his legs, or vice versa, there's no chance for anything to pass back and forth. If he had AIDS and it got into a cut or something, that could be worrisome, but judging by the look on your face, that's never happened.”

“I don't know what semen is,” Toki admitted.

“The white stuff that sometimes comes out of your penis, provided your body's mature enough to have started that yet.”

“Oh.” Toki averted his gaze again. “Nej, that's. . .never mixed.”

“Then you're just fine.”

Talking about it with Lundgren took that weight off Toki's shoulders. Curious about the Christians that thought being gay was okay, his mind wandered to Skwisgaar. “So it might not be a sin, to like him?”

“It all depends on how the Bible is interpreted, or whether or not it's consulted in the first place. That aside though, ja, it's possible to be a homosexual Christian without being a hypocrite. I don't want to say too much because I don't want you to think I'm flat-out telling you your parents' beliefs are wrong, but there are many paths to God. They've only shown you one.”

“Maybe that's true, but say I told my parents about Skwisgaar. I can't see any way that they'd approve of it.”

“Unfortunately, that's the reality that many kids in your shoes face. While gay rights and the general consensus toward LGBT people are improving over time, it's still not widely seen as something equal to the relationship between a man and woman. For that, I'm incredibly sorry that you might ever be made to feel like less just because of the way you were born.”

Lundgren's words touched Toki, but the fact still remained: “I'm scared. I wish I didn't have to worry about this, and I don't know what's going to happen to me.”

“No one does, whether or not this is their truth,” Lundgren assured him. “At the very base of the issue though, I want you to know that no matter what anyone says, this is okay. _You're_ okay.”

“Thanks.” When Toki exhaled, the last of the weight that crushed him this past week at least temporarily departed.

“Unless you have anything else you want to talk about, I suppose you could head on home. Your mother is probably wondering where you are.” Lundgren fed Toki one last smile as he rolled his chair to situate properly behind his desk again. “Feel free to come to me if you need to talk about this again, and like I promised, this all stays between us. You needn't worry.”

“Thank you.”

Dismissed and feeling a million times better, Toki shoved his homework into his backpack, bid farewell to Lundgren, and headed for the mudroom. Brief liberation of his guilt landed his thoughts immediately on Skwisgaar. He hoped that he'd waited for him after class, maybe wishing to corner Toki about what exactly went on between them, but everyone had already cleared the building. Disappointed although understanding, Toki headed for home. If he saw Skwisgaar before reaching Båraleden, great, if not, he'd catch him tomorrow. Hopefully, he'd forgive Toki for getting so screwed up over this.

* * *

 

Assuring his parents he felt well enough to go to hockey practice further boosted Toki's general disposition. The team revisited their loss experienced on Saturday afternoon, and worked together toward new strategies that might better them against Bollebygd's team. After showering and buckling down on the homework Toki promised he'd keep working at once he got home, he smiled when his mother entered his bedroom. It faded when she took a seat on his bed, in lieu of reemerging dread.

“My dear, I can't help but notice that it's been over a week since you last mentioned Skwisgaar or asked that he come over. Is everything all right between you two?”

“Um. . .” Unable to admit the truth, Toki shrugged. “I guess we haven't really spoken.”

“I assumed that maybe you two spending too much time together meant you needed a short break. Did you have a fight?”

“Nej, we just. . .haven't spoken. I'd like to pal around with him soon, though. I miss him.” It wasn't until those words escaped that Toki wondered how incriminating they were, but Anja didn't take them that way judging by the sympathetic pat to his shoulder. “There isn't much for us to do here, either. I'm always worried that he gets bored.”

“He seems to really like your guitar.”

“Ja, but. . .” Toki shrugged, thinking fast. “He's not used to me having to ask permission before he comes over, or us not being allowed to pal around anywhere _but_ here.”

“Like around town, or at his house?”

“There's only so much for us to do, here. I don't think he minds doing chores and stuff when his mom is out of town, but when he's only here for a few hours, it's not very fun.”

“Hm.” Anja tilted her head as she thought. “I don't think there'd be any harm in you going to visit at his place for once, so long as you did your homework before getting caught up in playing. To be quite honest, I've run into Serveta around town a few times, and she seems much better than how I initially pegged her. She certainly cares about her son, that can't be debated.”

“You'd let me go over?” Toki perked up. However, he still needed to get back into Skwisgaar's good graces before that could happen.

“Let me call Serveta first and see what she thinks. Tomorrow would be ideal, since you don't have hockey practice, and the weekend won't work between your game, church, and your father not much caring for the idea.” Anja winked. “If he asks, you were at the library.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Toki couldn't resist hugging her, then again when Anja poked her head into the room in order to tell him Serveta agreed to let him visit. Nerves toiled in Toki's stomach for what school the next day would bring with Skwisgaar, but he remained hopeful. When he finally experienced some vestige of freedom, could he really be denied?

Of course he could; a narrowed eye on Skwisgaar's part the first time their paths crossed in the morning made Toki wonder if he'd made a horrible mistake. He couldn't back out of going over to the Skwigelf home now, and awkwardness would be torture for however many hours his mother allowed him to visit. Thankfully, at recess, Skwisgaar cut Toki off before he could fetch a stick for the hockey game Roar called.

“So.” Skwisgaar leaned against the school building, lips pursed. “My mom said you're coming over today. What's _that_ about?” 

Toki debated how much he needed to tell Skwisgaar now, versus what could be explained later. “I miss you.”

“Right.”

“Not just. . .in general,” Toki tried. “I _miss_ you.” 

He received a scoff.

“Why do you do that?”

“Because this only happens when _you_ want it to, and that's not fair.” 

“This is really hard for me, okay?” Toki lowered his voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or anything. You're lucky you've never had to feel that kind of guilt before.”

Skwisgaar studied Toki again before dropping his gaze to the ground. Offering no clue toward his stance on the entire issue, he headed off. “I'll see you after school, then.”

His cool treatment had Toki on edge all over again. If not for paranoia that Lundgren watched him closer than ever, Toki kept his gaze straight rather than allow it to float across the aisles where another seating arrangement change put Skwisgaar. Music class, the last before school let out, came with multiple mistakes on the piano as Toki's attention span flew out the window. By the end, he willed to bounce his forehead against the keys. His anxiety reached a fresh height as he organized himself in the mudroom afterward to face the late-November chill.

Finally, Skwisgaar gave some sign that he wouldn't emulate how Toki treated him; when Toki stepped out into the newest skiff of snow, he leaned against the support pole with his guitar slung over his shoulder. Although Skwisgaar didn't quite yet return a smile, he didn't make Toki jog to catch up as he took off on a head start.

“Ready to go?” Toki asked, to kill the awkwardness.

“I guess.” Skwisgaar shrugged. “Why you'd want to come over, I have no idea.”

“No idea at all?”

“I don't know whether I should be impressed or scared that mom's cooking.”

“She usually doesn't?”

“Not really.”

Toki hadn't really thought about Serveta when he wrangled himself into going over to her house. He felt bad, to embarrass Skwisgaar further through exposure to her. “I don't think it'll be all that bad. I don't care if she feeds us snow, I just wanted to. . .talk, I guess.”

“She might,” Skwisgaar moodily replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I really don't know what to think about this. It isn't fair that I get played around with, so if you're going to flip-flop all the time it's not even worth it to me.”

“I can't promise I'm always going to be as okay with it as I am right now. This is really hard for me in ways I'm not sure you get, since you've only ever lived like me for a week or two at the most. My parents are different with you anyway, because you're not their kid,” Toki tried to explain. “There's a part of me that's so terrified I'm going to Hell. I'm scared God's going to give me the disease that Mercury guy had. I want to believe that God is all right with this, but there's such a difference between what I believe and what is true.”

“You don't hear the irony in what you just said, do you?”

“Just shut up. I'm trying to explain something important.” Irritated, Toki took a deep breath. “You have no idea what this last week's been like. I doubt it's been all that great for you either, but I've been terrified. I'm so sure I'm failing some big test that God's giving me.”

“So then why're you here?”

“Because I'm playing with the idea that God wants me to be happy, that maybe He doesn't care if you're a boy or a girl.”

“And what happens if you decide that's not true?”

“Honestly? I don't know. But I really, really hope it is.” Toki paused. “I wish you could get how big of a deal it is for me to even _think_ that my parents could be wrong.” 

They turned right at Båraleden. “I get that it is, but it already sucked to get dropped that fast. It's completely out of my control. I hate that, because everything's good and then. . .bye-bye.”

“If this isn't something you want to deal with, I get it,” Toki replied. “It's all up to you.”

Awkward silence draped over them as the snow crunched under their feet. Left off on that note, Toki wished he'd just walked with Skwisgaar as far as their usual parting place. With a couple hours ahead to fill together, how could they get through it without time slowing to a grinding halt? Two weeks ago, the ability to go to Skwisgaar's house and hole up in his room together would've left Toki beside himself with excitement. That existed latently, but he sincerely doubted anything like what he hoped for would manifest this evening. Maybe he'd just quietly do his homework, eat dinner, and then go home whenever his mother showed up to fetch him.

The cabin appeared at the end of the road, with smoke lazily rising from its chimney. As they passed the pickup, the front door opened and Serveta stepped out. Toki wished she'd decided it was too cold to forego a coat, because he could see her nipples through the thin material of her blue sweater. Embarrassed, although apparently not as much as Skwisgaar judging by the groan that sounded from low in his throat, Toki averted his gaze.

“Hej, boys,” she greeted them while pulling a cigarette from her pack. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Skwisgaar answered for both of them. Maintaining eye contact, Toki smiled.

Her husky tone made her sound more bored than like the seductress everyone seemed to consider her. Still, she seemed happy in her own way to see them, which made it all the easier to bypass her in favour of the warm wood stove inside. The television was on, drawing Toki's attention as yellow cartoons speaking a harsh version of English sat around a table in a really colourful kitchen. His feet slowed as he passed, catching the odd word that he'd learned; Skwisgaar prompting him toward the stairs snapped him out of the show's spell.

Skwisgaar's room was cleaner than the last time Toki came over. Possibly, as preparation for company, he'd tidied up. Toki noticed signs of a flash-clean: stuff was crammed under the bed and his closet door was closed. His infatuation swelled at the thought that Skwisgaar still showed some sort of will to accomodate him. Unfortunately, it couldn't be acted upon. While Skwisgaar perched on his bed, guitar in his lap and amp buzzing, Toki lingered at the doorway.

“Make yourself comfy.”

Unsure what else to do, Toki defaulted to his homework. He couldn't concentrate so well, with Skwisgaar playing the riffs not touched in Music. Toki watched him from the desk, mesmerized by the speed of his fingers. Only when Skwisgaar stopped playing and met his gaze did Toki realize he'd crossed over into a stare.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The idea that Toki couldn't openly show his appreciation for Skwisgaar went dashed with one terse word. More crestfallen than he thought possible, the heel of Toki's hand dug into his cheek as he attempted yet again to concentrate on the set of questions assigned for Science. He went distracted when Skwisgaar set his guitar aside and sighed as he closed his bedroom door. When Skwisgaar stood beside him, leaned back against the desk, Toki's gaze stilled on the page.

“What?” Toki couldn't emulate the force behind Skwisgaar's version of the question.

“You wanna make out, or what?”

Toki's head snapped up, housing a suddenly dry mouth. Skwisgaar immediately called him on his hope to convey want through a look.

“Don't start doing that with me. You never had a problem before telling me what you want, so go on.”

“It's not easy when you're being grumpy. I can't tell if you're playing with me or if this is something you actually want to do.”

“Doesn't feel so good, does it?”

“It's not the same thing.” Toki frowned. “Forget it, then. I don't want to make out with you when you're being like this.”

“Too bad.” Skwisgaar fiddled with his tape player, flipping over what was currently in it. After adjusting the volume, he returned to his bed.

Toki wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway with the music, but with boiling anger in his stomach, his homework went completely forgotten. “I don't know why you're being so mean. I get it, I hurt your feelings. I probably don't deserve you to like me anymore, even though you can't see what this has been like for me. I said I was sorry, and I meant it. If you're going to be like this, then I don't even know why I bothered.” 

Skwisgaar considered Toki again with pursed lips, before throwing a book. It didn't hurt as it clapped against Toki's shoulder, but that wasn't the point. Skwisgaar's smirk only made it worse.

“If you want me to go home, just say,” Toki stated through clenched teeth.

“I want you to pay attention to me.”

“Then quit it.”

After a moment's recess, Skwisgaar was on his feet again. Toki resisted at first when the back of his chair was pulled away from the desk, then gave in with a sigh. Skwisgaar standing before him incited mixed feelings. He wanted both to pull Skwisgaar closer and shove him away.

Skwisgaar chose for him by straddling his hips. However close they were, he remained unreadable. Toki hesitantly rested his hands on still-chilled thighs, waiting for him to speak if that was even in the forecast.

“You want me, you're going to have to earn my trust again,” Skwisgaar finally said. “I don't want to go along thinking everything's okay, and then you just stop talking to me because oops, this is wrong. You're lucky I like you so much. If I didn't, there's no way I'd even look at you again. This is your one chance.”

“That's not really fair. You can't just expect me to throw all my guilt away.” Toki rubbed small circles into denim with his left thumb. “But I promise I won't do what I did before. I won't shut you out. I meant what I said, that I want to figure out a way to make this all right.”

“It _is_ okay. You've just been told the opposite so many times that you believe it.” 

“If that's the truth, then I'll find it out.” Toki paused. “But you have to meet me halfway. You can't act like this if you want me to want to be around you. You can be so annoying.”

“Big Dumb Swede, wasn't it?”

Toki couldn't help but laugh, probably Skwisgaar's goal judging by the small smile pulling his cheeks upward. “Is that how you always want me to think about you?”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Whatever. I'm sick of talking. Do you want to make out, now?”

“Is that what all this has been about?”

“I'm not letting it be anything else until I know for sure you're not going to ditch me again.”

“But you'll make out with me?”

“I don't have to like you to want to make out with you.”

He did though, right? Could Toki trust Skwisgaar's word, that his crush went reciprocated? Deciding it wasn't worth dwelling or worrying that God would one day let him know this was wrong, Toki held Skwisgaar about the waist and leaned up to meet his lips. He often wondered how he'd gone so long in his life without knowing this boy, and now. . .how did he even go a week without him? If not for the music's volume, as well as the television and Serveta banging around down in the kitchen, Toki would be utterly mortified at the longing whine Skwisgaar pulled with the gentlest touch. All the voids Skwisgaar's absence left filled back up, even if he tested Toki's patience by nipping his lips and offering a challenging gaze when things got too intense. Refusing to participate in his games, Toki would merely pull him back down. Eventually, the distance that Skwisgaar attempted to maintain dissipated along with his rigidity. 

Toki's fingers felt out the arch in Skwisgaar's back, as it pressed him more against the chair. Sloppiness in how they treated each other warmed Toki beyond what he'd consider normal in comparison to the room temperature and, with Skwisgaar in his lap, he couldn't exactly turn his hips away. The only one more obvious about how this affected them was Skwisgaar, making Toki blush and then gasp when Skwisgaar's legs tightened and his movements became more obvious.

“I can feel you,” he murmured in Toki's ear.

“Ja, well, you're kinda. . .” Unable to string together a coherent sentence, Toki trailed off.

“Try it.”

It took every ounce of self-control already to not mirror Skwisgaar, but only those two words for Toki to toss concern to the wind. Even constrained by denim it felt good— _too_ good—and Toki didn't know how to stop. When his brain began to fuzz at the edges, he forced himself with tense muscles to still between Skwisgaar and the chair. “Hold on.” 

“Did you cum, or what?”

Not entirely sure what that all entailed, Toki shook his head. “We just need to stop.”

“Really?”

“Sorry.”

Lips pressed, Skwisgaar clambored off Toki and headed straight for the bathroom. Concerned that he'd screwed up big time left Toki to fall back into the rhythm of homework, while he throbbed and ached between his legs. Something primal urged him to take hold of himself and finish what Skwisgaar started, but discipline kept his hands on top of the desk.

He tensed when Skwisgaar returned, unsure what would come with him. In contrast to what he expected, lanky arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, followed by a nuzzle and kiss to the neck. A relaxed smile greeted him when their gazes met, then Skwisgaar returned to his bed with his backpack in tow.

He pulled out his Science homework. “Have you gotten to number six, yet?”

 


	9. Relief

Although distracting and uncomfortable to start, the ache between Toki's legs soon receded to a familiar, ever-present weight. Skwisgaar's burst of motivation toward homework briefly stinted as he leaned back against his bed's headboard with closed eyes. About the same time arousal soothed over for Toki, Skwisgaar resituated and consulted his textbook as he dashed answers out on the worksheet Lundgren assigned them. Only when stumped did he ask Toki for hints. Well, he requested the outright answers, but Toki wouldn't indulge him.

“It's so quiet up here,” Serveta commented when Skwisgaar answered her knock with an invitation inside. “Are you boys ready to take a break and come down for dinner?”

Every step down the stairs reminded Toki of unspent need. Movement made stickiness obvious, and he slyly tried to adjust himself against it when Serveta turned her back. Skwisgaar watched him out of the corner of his eye, one corner of his mouth rising in satisfaction.

“How's the homework coming?” Serveta asked as she set mashed potatoes on the table. “I expected that you wouldn't have even started.”

Confusion on Toki's part led to Serveta ruffling Skwisgaar's hair. “It's always such a fight with this one. He's usually up so late because he keeps putting it off.”

“Don't.” Skwisgaar smoothed his hair back down. “How would you know, anyway? You're not always here.”

Serveta's smile faded. “We're not going to have this discussion in front of your friend.”

“What does it matter? He knows you go away for weeks at a time.”

“Stop being so grumpy,” she chastised him. “You'll understand someday that you need to work and sometimes the town you live in doesn't exactly offer any jobs. Please behave.”

Skwisgaar ignored her. “Then why do we live here?”

“Because I bought the house when the economy was still good. Now eat your fish.”

Awkwardness fell as Skwisgaar slouched and poked at his food without looking at either of his fellow diners. Toki tried to avoid further discomfort by not meeting Serveta's gaze; he took a few bites of the meal she prepared, and while she went a little heavier than his own mother on the lemon and salt, it was still tasty. Complimenting her as such didn't do all too much to alleviate thick air, although Toki braced himself for the potential stint of corporal punishment that must be soon to come Skwisgaar's way. However, Skwisgaar's calmness—as well as his retreat back upstairs while Toki helped clean up in the kitchen—reminded him that Serveta would never bring any physical harm to her child for his disrespect.

“I'm sorry about him,” Serveta said under her breath as she collected the leftovers into containers. “He used to like it when I went to Stockholm. I'm not sure what's changed. I hope he's not getting lonely here.”

“I don't know,” Toki replied. “He never said anything like that to me, if he was.”

“He seemed to enjoy staying at your place, though.” She smiled. “Your mother said she would happily take him again.”

“When's that?”

“Few days after Christmas. I'm really grateful he has somewhere to go, and that he's finally made a real friend. Those other kids he hangs out with, I'm not sure how stable that is. It's fine at school, but he never wants to do anything with them outside of that if I ask. He and I celebrated his last birthday alone.” 

“Really?” Toki could always count on spending his with family, since that was what the entire community on the outskirts of Lillehammer consisted of. Not to mention, the date's vicinity to Christmas ensured that everyone would be around. “When _is_ his birthday? He never told me.” 

“End of July. Not for a while yet, but he's already talking about it.” Serveta snapped some lids down. “Said he'd like to go camping for a night with you somewhere on the other side of Östra Nedsjön.”

“That would be fun.” Toki already knew what exactly Skwisgaar had in mind, getting them so far away from their parents and the town in general. Subsequently, he approved and already looked forward to it.

He returned upstairs to find Skwisgaar back at his guitar, head bowed and fingers busy. Skwisgaar glanced up when Toki closed the door behind him, then his playing faulted when approached for a kiss. The idea of Skwisgaar coming to realization that he had no friends on such an important day brought Toki close again, then the guitar was set aside as nails gently raked his scalp. The second-hand embarrassment of Skwisgaar lipping off his mom slowly faded to the wayside.

“I don't want you to go home,” Skwisgaar said in a break between their lips. “Do you think you'd be allowed to stay the night?”

“Not on a Wednesday,” was enough of an answer. Toki didn't need to elaborate on what his parents would think of it. Well, his mother might be okay with the idea, provided it didn't completely shatter the illusion that Toki and Skwisgaar occupied the public library.

“Friday night?” Skwisgaar pulled Toki more onto the bed.

“I have a game Saturday morning.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“My mom could bring you to the arena, that's no big deal.”

“For someone that didn't even want me here a couple hours ago, you're sure clingy now.”

“I guess for someone that invited himself over, you're sure coming up with excuses about why you can't stay.”

“Shut up, Skwisgaar. My dad just doesn't know I'm here.”

That satisfied him, judging by the smirk-or-smile that hesitated them long enough for their gazes to meet. That coupled with an arm around his shoulders fed Toki an overwhelming urge to do something and everything to this body he progressively pinned against the mattress. He wanted to see Skwisgaar without his sweater on, wanted to mark up his chest with bite marks, and he wanted to turn him over and spank him as hangover from how he talked to his mom during dinner. Toki settled on doing none, too afraid of his own thoughts and where they could've possibly come from, so he worked on resisting bucking when his hips pressed against Skwisgaar.

Hands moved up beneath Toki's shirt, pulling a hot wash of breath as Skwisgaar thumbed his nipples. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Of course Toki did. However, through his increasingly foggy brain, it didn't seem like a very good idea. It pained Toki to stop rubbing himself against Skwisgaar. When he'd forced his hips still, his head landed on a bony shoulder with a heavy sigh. “You probably shouldn't.”

“It'll feel good.”

“I know. . .that's the problem.”

“Huh?”

Toki hesitated in order to rephrase. “One thing at a time, okay? I'm just getting used to the idea that I'm allowed to like you like this.”

After a moment of tension, Skwisgaar snuck a hand under Toki's shirt again in order to lightly scratch his back. “You don't jack off, do you?”

Toki cursed the heat rising in his cheeks, doubly-so when Skwisgaar smiled at him.

“You should, when you go home.” Skwisgaar kissed his nose. “Then you'll see it's not that big of a deal. I just want you to feel good.”

“Maybe,” Toki hedged. His father's voice still sounded from the back of his mind, condemning such an activity. While God could probably see how carried away his thoughts got right before sleep claimed him, what would He think if Toki relieved himself while those fantasies took hold?

“I don't know how you stand this.” Skwisgaar's hips lifted minutely off the bed to press against Toki's. “As soon as you do it, I promise you're going to wonder why you haven't been all along.”

“I probably shouldn't.”

“It's not weird, or anything. Everyone does it.”

“I doubt it.” Toki had his parents in mind, although he didn't particularly wish to imagine them doing such a thing.

“I'm serious. Maybe people don't talk about it much, but they do. _I_ do, everyday,” Skwisgaar admitted with a shrug. “I can't imagine going without it.” 

The flashed image of Skwisgaar engaging in such an animal comfort was too much for Toki. He rolled off onto his back and abashedly pulled a corner of the blanket over his crotch. While Skwisgaar propped up on an elbow, Toki stared at the ceiling and willed for this latest wave of arousal to recede.

“Just do what you're comfortable with. This is all pretty new to you, right?”

Before this school year, Toki couldn't have fathomed what was slowly turning into his truth. He didn't think he'd be lying in another boy's bed like this, with his taste pervading through his mouth. The future was once laid out as his parents told him—Toki would stay chaste until getting married somewhere around the age of eighteen, and then he'd start a family with his wife. However, as Toki's thirteenth birthday only sat a couple weeks away, eighteen suddenly seemed  _far_ too soon to have children of his own running around. 

Skwisgaar kissed his cheek. “I'll help you through it, anyway.”

Sinking Toki's stomach completely, his name wafted up from downstairs on Serveta's voice. “Your mother's here.”

“Oh no.” Toki's grip tightened on the blanket. He needed more time for this to go away.

“Go to the bathroom,” Skwisgaar instructed him while finger-combing his hair. “I'll stall them.”

Hoping it would work and that Skwisgaar's swollen lips wouldn't bust them, Toki streaked into the next room while casual footsteps headed for the stairs. He forced himself to stop thinking about Skwisgaar; leaned over the sink, Toki took deep breaths and tried to will weight to replace tightness again. It wasn't much better a prospect, but at least  _that_ Toki could hide. He anticipated an ache to go along with it all evening, until he could finally find relief in sleep. 

Deciding he might as well be productive while in here, Toki carefully lowered his pants. He'd gotten into the habit of keeping tissue around himself, just in case this sort of situation arose, and that certainly came in handy now. He peeled it off, nose wrinkling as some of the clear liquid rubbed off on his fingers. After washing his hands, he bunched up some toilet paper and cleaned up the rest of the mess, keeping his touch as clinical as possible. After wiping himself down, he dabbed up the few drops that landed amongst the small patch of curly hairs that manifested about a year ago.

He sighed as he waited for the last physical manifestation of his sins to disappear. His mother's laugh sounded from downstairs. Maybe, as rigidity slowly gave up between his legs, Toki could sneak back into Skwisgaar's room and gather up his things.

Skwisgaar slipped in as Toki slid his science book into his backpack. “I'll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Mhm.” Toki hesitated before letting Skwisgaar kiss him again, but smiled in its wake anyway.

“Remember what I said, about what you should do tonight.” Skwisgaar studied Toki's crotch. “And I can't really tell anymore if you're hard, or anything.”

“Ja, thanks.” Needing to be careful before he'd have to wait that much longer, Toki set his sights on downstairs. He feared for a moment that his mother would immediately see everything he'd done this evening written across his face, but her eyes merely sparkled when they stood before each other. Her cheeks seemed to ache, as she and Serveta ceased their banter.

“Are you ready to go?” She ran her fingers through Toki's hair, then again in the car after the appropriate gratefulness had been once again relayed to Serveta for having him over for dinner. “You need a haircut.”

“Aw, can't I keep it long?” Toki asked. “I like it like this.”

“I'm not sure that your father would approve.”

“Jesus had long hair.”

That turned Anja pensive. “We'll see what your father thinks. Speaking of him. . .remember our story?”

“I went with Skwisgaar to the public library, and then we took him home afterward,” Toki stated.

“Ja, good. Now, you know that I'm not giving you permission to lie to your father, right? Just in the general scheme of things, he's. . .difficult,” Anja settled to say. “He only wants what's best for you, but he judges others a little too hard sometimes. Serveta is quite pleasant really, and if not for what he'd say about it, I wouldn't mind having coffee with her once in a while.”

“How long do you think it'll be before Papa's okay with her?”

“I'm not sure.”

As it was; Toki dutifully relayed the story to Aslaug when their paths crossed, then retreated to his room in order to finish his homework off. Later that night, when all the house lights went off and his parents stilled in the next room, Toki gazed up at his ceiling again while considering the perennial weight between his legs. Just when he'd almost convinced himself to abide by Skwisgaar's instruction, he rolled onto his side and bunched his hands in the blanket. After making out to such a degree and humping the other boy with abandon, he'd probably committed enough potential offence against God's sensibilities for one day.

 

* * *

 

The arena always sat around five degrees below zero, just cold enough for Toki to feel comfortable after warming up before a game. Instead of wearing a disjointed series of jerseys and socks from Sweden's Elitserien League and North America's NHL, the Nedsjön Vargarna made up the blue, grey, and white half of players on the ice. As a second-line defence, Toki watched closely as the puck dropped and the action pressed immediately in on their net. Roar sent it back the other way after a kerfuffle in the corner, where it was picked up near the blue line by Noah.

His concentration led him to jump when a knock sounded against the player bench glass. The assumption his mother got his attention for something went dashed along with a smile and straightening of his spine. Toki didn't think, when Skwisgaar confirmed the time of his game on their walk home from school the previous day, that that meant he'd actually show up.

Skwisgaar couldn't distract him. While Toki wanted to impress, he needed to be careful that he didn't cross over into showing off and unintentionally throwing the game in Bollebygd's favour. His heart pounded nonetheless when Viggo skittered off the rink and Coach Janssen waved him in. While the puck went back and forth over by the opposite net, Toki paced near the centre-line in wait for it to come. Sure enough, a breakaway with the biggest player dressed in red and black put Toki into a prepared crouch and set him in backward motion as he attempted to determine just what exactly this kid had in mind to accomplish.

Toki segregated his personal life from the game, only remembering between periods that he had an important spectator. He glanced Skwisgaar on his way back to the bench when the zamboni cleared the rink for the second time, catching a daring wink while his teammates attempted to make themselves stand even taller for the local girls that flocked to their home game. With a final score of 6-3 in their favour, the girls giggled a bit louder in the hallway as Toki passed through to the change room a final time. He urged to undress as quickly as possible and join Skwisgaar and his parents, but it still took twenty minutes on a good day to bag his gear.

Near the end, Janssen got all of their attention. “Whoever wants, hot chocolate's my treat at the café next door. Good game, guys. You all played really well.”

Amongst a fresh wave of excited murmurs, Roar elbowed Toki. “Think you'll be allowed to come?”

“Maybe.” Despite excitement to go straight home, since Skwisgaar slated to spend the night, Toki felt the urge to accompany his team. Thankfully, his father gave a reluctant nod when it came time to ask. After stowing his bag in the car's trunk, Toki walked over with the three of them to Liten Cocovaja. They went separate ways at the door, Toki to where his team had pushed a few tables together, and Skwisgaar and his parents to their own booth across the way.

“Look how much whipped cream the waitress gave me,” Roar greeted Toki with. His mug nearly doubled in height. He'd taken a couple spoonfuls of it to eat solely on its own, and did so again with a noise of mixed disgust and entertainment from Acke opposite.

“Dare you to shove as much as you can in your mouth. See if you don't gag.”

Chipmunk cheeks on top of Roar's curly blond hair sticking in every direction soon gathered attention from all along the table. Thanks to the team's prompts, he eventually wavered forward on a gag, then emptied the contents of his mouth into a napkin before he could lose it all a worse way. The ruckus heightened again when Espen came in with a couple balls of snow furled in his grasp. One of them sliding down Toki's back had him on his feet. The others mimicking his scream whenever their table grew anything near quiet landed Toki's face in his hands over and over again.

“I'm working on my mom to let me go to Finland this summer,” Roar told Toki, prompted by one of the fourteen year olds on their team relaying his hockey camp experience. “There's this really good one, outside Helsinki. I can't remember what it's called, but it'd be a lot of fun. Even if they make me run laps around a field for two weeks straight, it's still an excuse to get out of here for a little bit.”

Toki hummed thoughtfully; he hadn't been in Sweden for very long at all, but leaving Norway and his sheltered upbringing by extent made it easy to imagine himself going to a whole other country for a visit. A glance over to where his parents had coffee and Skwisgaar sipped at a soda excused the possibility, though. He doubted his father would ever give the go-ahead for something like that.

“There must be Swedish coaches, or at least a translator,” Roar mused. “Finnish is such a weird language.”

“I thought it would be kind of like Swedish or Norwegian.” Although Toki experienced a learning curve when making the transition between, both sounded natural to him by now.

“Nah, it's. . .I don't know how to describe it. Weird, is the first word that comes to mind.”

Simply taking Roar's word for it, Toki finished up his hot chocolate and hung around until his teammates began trickling off back to their families. Feeling the need to wash up now that his sweat dried, Toki hopped tables over to his parents.

“Are you ready to go?”

At home, after spreading his hockey gear out in front of the wood stove to dry, Toki's path crossed with Skwisgaar's in his bedroom as the other boy went about unfurling the foamed mattress he'd claimed through constant use. Although his parents remained out of view and it probably wouldn't be too dangerous to sneak in a quick show of affection, a flat palm met Toki's chest when he tried to lean in.

“You stink.”

“I'm going to have a shower. C'mon, just a quick one.”

Whatever fuss Skwisgaar made, his nose unwrinkled and he switched from holding Toki at bay to keeping him close. A noise from the kitchen, reminder that they weren't truly alone, forced them apart. The entire way through his shower, Toki ached to be back in his room. Still, he and Skwisgaar couldn't do anything at all for quite a few hours yet; they still had dinner and an evening to get through before his parents would give them the space necessary to indulge.

“I brought in the wood,” Skwisgaar said when Toki returned. “And your mom wants us to walk to the store and pick up potatoes. She didn't have as many as she thought.”

Sure enough, Anja came in behind him to hand over some money. With the dying day leaving them already in twilight, Toki nearly chanced taking Skwisgaar's hand along the sidewalk.

“You don't seem as nervous for tomorrow as I thought you would be,” Skwisgaar remarked.

That was why Toki wanted him to stay the night in the first place, and why he'd buckled down and finished all his homework immediately after school the previous day. He hated to put Skwisgaar through his father's church session again, but what could he do when Skwisgaar volunteered at the end of it all? “I feel like it'll be okay. I mean, my father's basically been practicing his sermon all week at the dinner table, so I know what to expect. I hope it won't be so bad, when you're there.” 

“Are you worried it's going to scare you again?”

“Kind of. It's hard to hear him talk about something that affects me. I don't want to disappoint them, but it's a little too late for that.”

“Has it made you think at all that you should try and stay straight?”

“Sometimes it crosses my mind.” Toki couldn't lie. “But I'm trying really hard not to lose myself in what they've planned for me. It's weird, because I feel normal until I think about me the way _they_ would, if they knew. Then again, I'm scared about how quickly I've changed since moving here and I wonder if I'm just getting caught up in all this new freedom.” 

“Maybe a bit with the things we do, but I think if you weren't gay, you'd be chasing after a girl instead of hanging around me. There are a couple in class that like you.”

However curious as to whom those might be, it didn't intrigue Toki to the degree that Skwisgaar did. “I've never liked girls, not like this. They're pretty, but somehow you're better. Not just because you're cute, either. There's something about you.”

Skwisgaar's eyes were reduced to mere glints as a smile preceded his gaze landing on Toki. “Thanks. I liked you from the get-go. You were so scared and pathetic on your first day of school. Couldn't help it.”

“Psh, what kind of a compliment is that?”

“You didn't have to think that I was trying to be mean by kicking your chair.”

“Because obviously when some kid does that, he wants to kiss you.”

“I didn't know I wanted to do that right away, though.”

“Oh?”

“Not until. . .” Skwisgaar trailed off as his gaze darted. “I don't know when that came up, actually. The thought just seemed to be there, one day. I've liked other people before and that always seemed obvious. This time? Not really. That's kind of weird.”

Toki shrugged. “I didn't know I'd like kissing you until after the first time it happened. You were all I could think about, after that.”

Their hands brushed. “Mission accomplished.”

* * *

 

Everything about Church, from the sunlight hitting the windows to the quiet shuffle and clear of throats, seemed surreal to Toki. Never before did he feel he didn't belong here, whether in this building or the one he used to migrate to in Lillehammer. The more his father spoke at the front of the congregation, the quieter God's presence seemed. Did anyone else feel it? His mother listened with rapt attention, while Skwisgaar bore a slightly furrowed brow and parted lips on his other side. As if to contrast the list of sins Aslaug spouted, Skwisgaar looked so good in his pressed white shirt and dress pants. No comb could straighten his stubborn waves, the long parts of which laid gently on his shoulders. His bangs, in attempt to grow them out, fell back into his eyes from where Anja had attempted to direct them away.

“. . .So if we consider the life of Freddie Mercury as a whole, it's actually quite tragic,” Aslaug stated up at the podium. “Let's not consider for a moment the manner in which God punished him for engaging in homosexual behaviours. Even before that, he followed a false religion. He put his faith in someone named Ahura Mazda, and that more than him being a homosexual is why he's now in Hell. As it says in Thessalonians 1:8-9, ' He will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might. ' As much time as Freddie Mercury had to plan his funeral, he didn't prepare his soul to meet God. 

“Appreciate how foolish the sinful and rebellious hearts are, against the Lord that created them. Freddie Mercury left behind an estate of millions of dollars, the result of a life of sodomy, fornication, illegal drugs, and materialism. He carried none of this beyond the grave. His talents were used for the devil. Imagine the good he could've done, had he used them for our Lord, instead. All of Mercury's fame, friends, and wealth, however enjoyable while he walked amongst us, will not help him escape the Lord's wrath now that he's returned to His domain. . .”

Toki's attention slipped in and out. After a particularly long spell of his eyes sliding out of focus, he glanced around the nave to see if anyone else mirrored his disinterest. Oddly, no. People seemed more rapt than during most other sermons, confusing Toki. He didn't usually have this problem in Church, although maybe he could attribute that to having already heard a disjointed version of what his father currently conveyed. Toki didn't believe it, though. He didn't feel it in his heart, like the humming that usually came with a righteous set of words laid out for him to ruminate upon. Maybe Lundgren and Skwisgaar got to him, or maybe. . .God too turned his back on this house of worship today.

The idea itched Toki's fingers to reach for Skwisgaar's. While he'd cautiously entertained before that his father got something wrong, he accepted it today. He couldn't say anything, as the service came to an end, a couple cookies and some juice preceded a quick catch-up with his hockey buddies, and then the drive home had his father basking in the afterglow of such a successful sermon. However, as Toki sought out fresh clothes to change into back in his room, Skwisgaar finally breached the subject.

He sat on the bed with Toki's guitar in his lap. Lazy strumming recreated some of the hymns they'd heard today, then gradually transformed them into something darker. “How're you doing?”

“Better than I thought I would be.” Toki hadn't gathered his thoughts about it completely yet, but he could give Skwisgaar at least that much assurance. Yet again, he couldn't do much when forced to change in the bathroom and then spend the majority of the afternoon in company of his parents. When bedtime finally came around—as much as Toki dreaded it for school the next morning—he sighed in relief when Skwisgaar slipped in under his covers.

“You know what would be really cool?” Skwisgaar asked. “If when my mom went away, you were allowed to stay at my house.”

“Just the two of us, you mean?” A sardonic laugh escaped Toki's lips. “My parents would never let me go without supervision. It's already pushing it enough, to go to your house when your mom's actually _there_.” 

“It'd be cool, though.”

Toki conceded at least that with a nod, lightly scratching Skwisgaar's back as their chests warmed each other. He easily forgave how awkwardly his arm curled under the pillow when lips of similar softness took his. A happy hum went checked, as did anything more than a cautiously panted gasp whenever their pets transformed to gropes. Quickly as ever, Toki's body ached to be touched at its epicentre. Their lips parted when Toki's stilled, thanks to the tentative hand that slipped between his legs. 

“Would you let me?” Skwisgaar whispered.

Toki's first instinct was no, especially since he hadn't even gotten around yet to doing so on his own time. However, when the combined slide of tissue, cotton, and pressure against him felt so good, how could he put it off any longer? Combatting fear that he got caught up in the moment, Toki rashly nodded.

Skwisgaar rewarded him with a kiss, drawing it out in order to soothe the instinct for Toki to pull away when the band of his underwear was breached. “Just hold still, and try not to make any noise.”

The whimper that came from being touched died with embarrassment, when Skwisgaar furrowed his brow. Toki felt the need to explain. “I try to keep my clothes clean.”

“You know, you probably wouldn't need to do that if you did this more often.” Rather than remove the tissue, Skwisgaar adjusted it. “It'll be handy right now, anyway.”

Concentrated, wet slide forced Toki's tongue back toward his throat, to combat any noise that attempted to bypass a tightened larynx. Heavy breathing and nails indenting Skwisgaar's shoulder were a better way to convey developing relief, although Toki attempted to keep the former under control for secrecy's sake. Skwisgaar kissing him again relaxed his muscles enough for a small groan to leak out, and then for a subsequent reminder shush.

The swell and heavy nature that accompanied arousal felt good in its own sense, but it couldn't compare to when the actions done upon Toki advanced beyond the usual stopping point. Skwisgaar's hand scratched an itch Toki learned to tolerate for too long now, and spread the relief down to his cracking toes and up where his scalp tingled. Just when he didn't think it could feel any better, his body quivered and his core tightened. It bubbled up inside, warm like when he would relieve his bladder, but that never came with his pelvic floor slipping into rhythmic clenches or a wash of euphoria simultaneously cooling and heating his skin. His hips bucked in attempt to keep it going longer; something Skwisgaar said went ignored, resulting in his free hand clapping over Toki's mouth. When he'd calmed down enough to stilt his moan, Toki returned Skwisgaar's newest kiss with fervour.

A final sigh washed away all that remained of any tension in Toki's body. The heaviness in his penis had relented, and every muscle resembled a limp noodle. His pelvic floor echoed its initial pulsation. It left in its wake the urge to stay cuddled up to Skwisgaar while he descended into a warm and cozy sleep. It occurred to him though, as Skwisgaar tucked him back inside his underwear and mirrored arousal grazed his thigh, that he was expected to return the favour.

“What should I do?”

In response, Skwisgaar rolled onto his back and quickly shucked his own underwear. Toki couldn't feel abashed in this new state introduced to him, although he still furrowed his brow. “I need to keep my sheets clean.”

“Sit up, then?”

Toki did so as carefully as possible to avoid a groaning mattress, eventually relaxing with his back pressed to the headboard. Skwisgaar moved just as cautiously, straddling Toki like he had on the chair back in his own room. Toki couldn't see the extent of his nudity between them, thanks to the shadows created, but he could feel it against his abdomen.

His squint to see ended when his chin was lifted for a new kiss. “Just do what I did.”

Skwisgaar guided Toki's hand to him, wrinkling Toki's nose briefly as wetness found his palm. He usually tried to avoid touching this stuff whenever he needed to clean it up. It wasn't  _so_ bad when it was Skwisgaar's, especially when warm, turgid flesh slid nicely through his hand. Lips twitched against his, as the other boy trembled. His breath turning into pants could be addictive, for Toki rarely saw Skwisgaar not in control of himself. Every touch they ever fed each other before this was calculated, with Skwisgaar always taking the upper hand. Now, with need extinguished and able to concentrate, Toki studied the minute changes in Skwisgaar's expression. A furrowed brow was all the more precious, and altering pressure in how Skwisgaar perched atop him was measured in attempt to empathize. There was no mistaking where he'd reached when viscosity spurted against Toki's abdomen, and Skwisgaar whispered his name amongst the breath pelting his ear. It sent a shiver down Toki's spine all over again, to know he'd made someone else feel as good as  _he'd_ felt, not all too long ago. 

Skwisgaar's weight seemed to increase, as he leaned forward. With a still-wet hand, Toki didn't know where or how exactly to touch Skwisgaar. “Maybe I should go clean up.”

Skwisgaar slid off Toki's lap, taking up beneath the blanket as Toki skirted through the hallway with loud, mental pleads that he wouldn't run into his parents. Safe in the bathroom though, Toki investigated himself. Cum trailed down his stomach, just about to reach the band of his underwear. He wiped it off before that could happen, then again with a wet tissue after washing his hands. Tending to himself afterward, he removed his underwear before peeling away the tissue that captured his own mess.

Restored to cleanliness, Toki snuck back into his room. Skwisgaar remained in the bed, where heavy arms reciprocated their wrap when joined.

“Feels better, doesn't it?” Skwisgaar asked after a moment of silence.

“Ja. I just didn't realize it'd be so. . .messy.”

Skwisgaar chuckled. “We did good at keeping it contained, for what it could've been.”

“Maybe it should all land on _you_ , next time.” 

“Sure.”

 


End file.
